


The Hardest Job

by Desertgal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-20 14:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8251903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desertgal/pseuds/Desertgal
Summary: The story starts with a description of Severus Snape's encounter with Voldemort after Harry's return to Hogwarts at the end of The Goblet of Fire. It describes what he had to do to become a Death Eater. The story ends with Snape's thoughts during Dumbledore's comments at the leaving feast.





	1. Prepared

Severus Snape had just told Albus Dumbledore that he was prepared, and he was. He was prepared to rejoin the Dark Lord and swear his allegiance to him; he was prepared to endure the torture he knew he would suffer; he was prepared to deceive the most accomplished Legilimens in the world; and most of all, he was prepared to die. Severus didn’t want his life to end this night, but he knew the only thing that would keep him alive was his skill at shutting down his memories and feelings in order to hide the lies he was about to tell.

The Dark Mark on his left forearm had been growing stronger for months. Snape had known it was inevitable that he’d be summoned to his former life – to his former master. He’d had plenty of time to think about what he had to do – to plan his next move. Even without his mission for Dumbledore, staying away from the Dark Lord had never been an option. Snape had started down this path the moment he’d joined the Death Eaters as a very young man. To not return meant certain death. To return late, as he was, would incur the Dark Lord’s wrath, and quite probably would get him killed anyway.

During the walk to the front gates of Hogwarts where he could Disapparate, Severus thought about Lily. He pictured her in the playground where he’d first talked to her and two years later on their first ride on the Hogwarts Express. And even though long before the end of their seventh year he’d lost her friendship, he remembered the young woman she had become. Occasionally Severus wondered if Lily might have grown to love him if he hadn’t embraced the Dark Arts.

Snape shook his head. It was foolish, even dangerous to indulge in these memories. To be effective at Occlumency one had to empty oneself of all emotion. After a few steps, Severus paused and closed his eyes. If this was to be his last moments of life he wanted to see Lily’s face – he wanted to see her beautiful green eyes.

It had already been two hours since his Dark Mark had burned black. His tardiness was not going to be easily forgiven but a few minutes more would make no difference. Severus gazed up at the castle he’d first seen not quite twenty-four years earlier. It was late; however due to the events of this evening most windows still sparkled with light. The towers and turrets of the magnificent building glowed under the cloudless star-filled sky. A reflection of the quarter-moon glistened on the smooth surface of the lake. Some of the happiest years he’d ever had had been here in the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

“Stop it,” Severus muttered to himself, “you’re acting like a ridiculous, weak, sentimental Gryffindor. Only a fool wallows in memories and can’t control his emotions.” As he continued down the path and through the gates he wondered if he _had_ become soft during the almost fourteen years since he’d last faced the Dark Lord – since he’d last lived a double life. If he was going to survive, not just the night but the months or years to come, he had to put aside all feelings and thoughts of lost love and embrace the hatred, racism, and vengeance valued by Lord Voldemort.

Snape visualized Sirius Black, James Potter and with a sneer of disgust, Harry Potter. He focused on his four years of dealing with the arrogant, rule-breaking, attention-seeking, impertinent, lying, lazy, mediocre, nasty little boy and felt blind irrational fury. He didn’t regret his treatment of Potter at all. The boy was the living proof that Lily – his Lily – had given her body to another man.

His hatred and bitterness towards Black, Potter and Potter gave Severus the strength he needed for the reunion with and ongoing service to the Dark Lord. He knew his enjoyment of the cruelty and vindictiveness he heaped upon the Potter boy and the other Gryffindors pushed him deeper towards the Dark Side. He also knew it was what fueled the rage that might keep him alive tonight.

He pulled the silver mask from inside his robes, placed it over his face and drew the hood of his cloak up over his head. He calmed himself, slowed his breathing and emptied his mind. Unbidden Snape heard the droning voice of his Apparation instructor echo from the past. ‘Step one: fix your mind firmly upon your desired destination’. To Apparate after the burn of the Dark Mark, one’s destination was the Dark Lord though Severus didn't really consider it something he desired. He turned on the spot and Disapparated.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he appeared in the middle of a wide lane. In the distance at the bottom of the hill he saw an overgrown graveyard with the outline of a church barely visible near some trees. The Dark Lord’s magical call was not coming from down there; it came from inside the fine old house at the end of the lane. Severus placed his wand inside his robes and began walking.

As he approached the old manor house he noted signs of disuse and neglect; yet overall, it was in good shape. Some of the windows had been boarded, tiles were missing from the roof and ivy grew wildly over most of its walls. Faint candlelight glowed through the large, tall windows on either side of the doorway. When Snape placed his foot upon the first step the large oak door swung inward on quiet hinges.

Six black robed, masked and hooded figures, three on each side of the hall, held wands pointed at his chest. Snape extended both arms above his head; empty hands up with palms towards the others and let the sleeves of his robes fall to reveal the Dark Mark. Slowly, using his right hand, he pushed back his hood and mask. The Death Eater in front motioned silently with his wand and Severus entered the house.

Severus wondered which of the Dark Lord’s followers were flanking him as he was guided down the hall towards stairs. Were these the only six who’d responded to the summons, or had some already been dismissed? Quite a number of the Death Eaters were in Azkaban but if so few of those who’d remained free had answered the call maybe it would be easier to defeat the Dark Lord. Selfishly, Snape also thought that if so few had come, perhaps the Dark Lord would be more tolerant of Snape's own tardiness.

The two figures in front of Severus where short and plump as was the one on his right. This would be the two Carrows and someone he couldn’t place. The tall man in the back who’d gestured him inside was likely Lucius Malfoy from the way he carried himself, always the arrogant aristocrat. Potter had named Lucius as being present at the Dark Lord's rebirthing. The other two could be any number of his Slytherin housemates, or perhaps even some of the older Death Eaters.

At the top of the stone staircase, Snape was directed into a windowless room to the right where a large fire burned in the grate. A once magnificent gilded mirror, now dim and streaked with age hung over the mantel. A chandelier was suspended from the high ceiling with low burning black candles in holders shaped like open-mouthed snake heads upturned around its edge. Their tails entwined each other in the center where the fixture was attached to the ceiling. The dark-colored paper on the walls was dingy with years of neglect and dust was visible around the edge of the room. This shabbiness contrasted sharply with the polished black sheen of the stone floor in the middle of the room where the only furnishing was located.

A large armchair sat in the fire glow, the white hairless head of Lord Voldemort visible over its top. Nagini, all twelve feet of her, uncurled herself from his lap and slid to the floor, hissing loudly. As Snape’s escort directed him to stand between the fireplace and the Dark Lord, Nagini undulated quickly to place herself between her master and this interloper. She raised her head and continued to hiss, flick her tongue and spit – plainly irritated.

“Now, now, my sweet,” said the high, cold voice of Lord Voldemort, “is that any way to greet an old friend?” The bright red eyes with the narrow slits for pupils met the black ones and a mirthless sneer curled his thin lips.

It was hard for Snape to stay focused on the Dark Lord with the snake curling at his feet, quickly encircling his legs. He managed to avoid her as he fell to his knees and bowed his head.

“My Lord,” Severus kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes. “Master, I'm very pleased that you have returned.” Keeping his head down Severus echoed the words he had spoken during his initiation as a Death Eater so many years ago. “If my sacrifice will hasten your rise to power, then I freely give my life to you. Do with me what you will.” He knew better than to try to explain why he was late until asked.

Lord Voldemort spoke to Nagini in Parseltongue. She stopped hissing and slithered away to coil on the hearthrug. From his position looking at the floor Severus could see the snake still eying him like dinner.

He heard Voldemort rise from the chair and in the next instant his legs were pulled straight backwards and his upper body was pulled forward. His arms were sprawled at an odd angle and his nose hit the cold stone with a thud. As he lay prostrate at the feet of the Dark Lord Snape realized he hadn’t been bound by a curse, but he dared not move into a more comfortable position. He heard the others in the room assemble themselves in two lines on either side of his body.

“You think you can come back to me two hours late, and be accepted?” Lord Voldemort shouted shrilly. _“Avada Ke_ …No.”

Snape heard a gasp from a Death Eaters to his left, and a squeak from one on his right. There was a rustle of robes as if someone grasped the arm of his neighbor or drew his hand to his mouth to stifle an exclamation. Severus knew they were not surprised that the Dark Lord was about to use the Killing Curse on him; they were shocked that he hadn’t. He hardly dared to breathe at this reprieve. Maybe he would be able to give his well-rehearsed excuses. In the next instant his head was jerked back as if by an invisible hand so that he was staring directly at Voldemort.

“When you didn’t respond to my summons, I believed you had left me forever.” He turned to the tall man on his immediate right. “What did I say I was going to do to him, Lucius?”

“My Lord,” he pushed back his mask, knelt down next to Snape’s face and smiled delightedly. “You said you were going to kill him.”

The cruelty and glee in Malfoy’s voice as he said ‘kill’ annoyed Severus. He expected to be taunted and mistreated by the Dark Lord, but to have it directed at him by his supposed allies made him want to curse the grin off the blonde’s pointed face.

“Yes, yes I did.” Looking at the man next to Lucius, Voldemort asked, “Can you tell me why I haven’t yet exterminated him?”

Glancing at the body at his feet the man shuddered slightly. “Master, because you require thirteen years of repayment before we can rejoin you.”

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed with a cold, cruel cackle. “Indeed I do, Avery.” Releasing the hold on Snape’s head he cast, _“Crucio!”_

Despite the fact that the curse was expected, an involuntary scream escaped as Severus writhed with the pain of the torture. Mercifully, it lasted only about a minute before Lord Voldemort commanded, “Stand!”

As Snape struggled to make unwilling arms work to push himself to his feet, the Dark Lord continued, “Did the Potter boy return to Hogwarts?”

Swaying on legs that didn’t want to support him, he bowed his head and replied softly, “Yes, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord hissed. He clutched his hands into fists and screamed. Reacting to her master’s anger, Nagini hissed and spat but stayed in her place on the rug.

Through downturned eyes, Severus saw Lord Voldemort raise his wand just before his left ear was struck as if hit by a bludger. The force of the curse caused his head to jerk to the right. He took a deep breath and bowed his head again.

“He survives?” Voldemort's inquired shrilly.

“Yes, my Lord.” This time he was ready when he was struck and his head jerked to the left. With quiet resolve, he looked down again and waited for the next blow.

“Did you keep him from talking?” Voldemort was shrieking now, “Did you try to kill him?”

“No, Master," Snape said with as much feigned reverence as he could muster. "Crouch took him away while I was detained by Dumbledore.”

The blow landed on his nose so hard that his head snapped back. Even though he heard his neck crack, nothing seemed to be broken. He put his head down again with the realization that all the Dark Lord’s frustration with the loss of the boy was to be taken out on him. It was yet another reason to hate the obnoxious child.

“Why hasn’t Crouch returned to me?” The Dark Lord moved to stand behind Snape.

He couldn't see it – however knowing the man well – Severus envisioned his tormentor twirling his wand as he contemplated where to attack next. From his posture of submission Snape explained. “He tried to eliminate Potter as soon as the boy arrived. He…”

“Good!” exclaimed The Dark Lord as he quickly walked around to face Snape again. Slatted red eyes narrowing even further than normal, he frowned, “Tried! You said tried?”

“Yes, my Lord. He was discovered by Dumbledore and…" Knowing it would be unwise to disclose his direct involvement, Snape paused slightly, "…and some of the staff. They stopped Crouch and saved Potter.”

“So Crouch has been detained," Voldemort spun to his right. "We must retrieve him immediately. Lucius…”

As much as he dreaded the consequences, Snape knew he must tell everything. For the first time since his torture had started he met the Dark Lord’s eyes. “The dementors were called.” He watched the stricken expression appear on the reptilian face as realization set in. “He has been kissed,” Snape finished quietly.

“NO!” shrieked Voldemort.

When he wasn’t immediately hit, Snape wondered if he would be spared punishment for this failure.

“Dumbledore!" Spittle escaped the Dark Lord's lips and landed on Snape's cheek. "How could he destroy my most loyal servant?”

The impact of the curse hitting him in the center of his chest took Snape’s breath away. He struggled to pant out, “No…, Master. No…, it was…Fudge.”

“That idiot, he’ll pay for his insolence,” Voldemort spat as he slashed his wand through the air casting one last non-verbal spell on Snape.

Perhaps the Dark Lord’s anger was finally spent, or perhaps Snape was becoming used to the abuse because the blow to his stomach didn’t seem to hurt nearly as much as he thought it would.

Everyone in the room shifted uneasily; they remained silent as Lord Voldemort sank into his chair with his head in his hands. Severus took the time to clear his mind, center his thoughts, and prepare for whatever was going to happen next. He didn’t have long to wait.

The Dark Lord again stood in front of Snape. “There must be consequences for your late arrival. Take off your cloak and the mask of a loyal Death Eater. We must see if you’re still worthy of being one of us.” While waiting for Snape to comply, Voldemort's expression changed into a twisted smile as he looked at each of his servants. “I think we need some entertainment. The Potter boy escaped; my most loyal servant destroyed. I need blood! I need revenge! It’s too bad most of my Death Eaters have gone. They would all have enjoyed having some fun.”

This was useful information as it meant this handful wasn't all that had returned. It was, however, bad news for Severus since the Dark Lord no longer had a large group to torture. He only had one on which to focus all his anger.

Snape had just dropped the clothing on the floor behind himself when the man on Avery’s right called out _Flagrate_. Severus recognized the voice of Macnair in the instant before the fiery cuts began to burn through the back of his robes and sear into his skin. He bit down on his tongue and looked at the Dark Lord. They were going to try to distract him with pain while Lord Voldemort used Legilimency to determine his loyalty.

The man across from Macnair made a noise that sounded like a stifled laugh. “Coward. Yes, yes. Brand him as a coward too afraid to come when called.”

Realizing that the marks on his back were being drawn into words – into a brand of the thing he knew he wasn’t – Severus had to stop himself from shouting. He was spared the need when another spoke.

Not releasing his gaze the Dark Lord said quietly, “No, Wormtail. Severus might be a lot of things but he’s never been a coward – unlike you.” With a wave of the Dark Lord's wand, the marks were gone from Snape's back. Wormtail yelped immediately after his mask hit the floor. Snape didn’t dare move, but from the laughter of the others, it seemed the brand had been transferred to the other man. Lord Voldemort smirked, “Try again, Macnair.”

Severus puzzled about which Death Eater was nicknamed Wormtail. It wasn't a name he recognized. His contemplation was interrupted as Macnair lifted his wand and Severus felt cuts begin to blister his skin again.

Avery raised his wand, sneered at the man in front of him and cast _“Furnunculus.”_

Severus felt the pulling of his skin as boils erupted on his face, hands, and under his clothes. The pustules filled rapidly all over his body and the touch of his robes against them caused each to ache.

“You dare to defy our master by not coming when you were called,” Avery shouted.

“I was delayed by that fool Dumbledore,” Severus snapped.

At the mention of the name of his nemesis, the Dark Lord again hit him with _“Crucio!”_

His body convulsed with the pain but this time he managed to not cry out. Severus tried to stay on his feet; failing, he collapsed face down as the Dark Lord released the curse. Gasping for breath and unable to stand, he felt Nagini slither up onto his legs, then his back, and then she began to coil herself around his head. She brought her tail up and doubled it into the center of his back. The weight of the snake compressed his lungs making it even harder to get air. Just as he thought he would suffocate, relief came from an unexpected source.

Wormtail shouted _“Levicorpus,”_ and Snape was immediately turned upside down hanging by one foot near the top of the twelve-foot ceiling. His robes should have been falling down around his head except that someone had cast a levitation charm that kept them in place so they could all see his face floating at about their eye level. Rotating as he was being held aloft, Snape was surprised when he saw that Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew. Being hung like this was almost worse than the Cruciatus Curse. He was being incapacitated by his own spell as he had been at Hogwarts and it was being done by one of the four who had taunted him as a student. On the bright side, at least the snake had been thrown off.

He rotated slowly and while most were masked and hooded, Severus had figured out which Death Eaters were here to torment him. He couldn’t really blame them. He knew if they didn’t do the Dark Lord’s bidding, they would be tortured or killed. In a different situation, it would have been him casting the curses.

Amycus Carrow whispered something to his sister then cast _“Rictusempra"_. Snape almost smiled. He wasn’t ticklish, so this curse, at least, wasn’t going to be a bother. He had to wonder if Amycus knew this.

Alecto Carrow next joined the fun by casting a stinging jinx. It felt like a thousand bees were attacking all at once and he could not stop the twitching of his body as it reacted instinctively.

The boils finally could no longer expand and they burst. The sticky fluid began to run under his clothes down his legs, arms, back and chest. As Snape twisted around slowly, Macnair continued to use _Flagrate_ carving who knew what into all parts of his body. Some of the cuts hit his face. The blood mixed with the pus from the boils and it oozed into his eyes and they began to sting. The only good thing about all this was that the Dark Lord couldn’t keep his gaze locked to use Legilimency.

As if thinking the same thing, Lord Voldemort cast _“Liberacorpus”_. Snape fell head first onto the stone floor with a loud crash. “Can you give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill you now?”

Severus felt his right wrist and upper arm snap as he landed on the limb and it crumpled under his body. Sharp pain stabbed through the arm and stars burst behind his eyelids. His head ached where it had hit the floor. Several seconds passed before he could breathe. When he was finally able to draw air into his lungs he took several deep, shuddering breaths and fought to stay conscious.

“So you have nothing to say for yourself?” Voldemort demanded as he raised his wand.

Snape rolled onto his back clutching his right arm against his chest. His fingers throbbed with each beat of his heart; daggers of pain radiated throughout his whole upper right side. Ignoring his agony Severus fought to speak. He’d finally been given his chance to explain and if he had any hope of survival, he had to do it now. With the Dark Lord, those opportunities didn’t happen twice.

From his undignified position on the floor, Snape gazed directly into Voldemort’s face and panted, “My Lord…it is your…right to…kill me…if that…best serves…your purpose….I waited…to answer your…summons until Dum…the foolish old…man sent me…to you.” Seeing Lord Voldemort flick his wand, Snape continued as quickly as he could, “By keeping…the head…master’s trust I can…better serve…you. I’ll…”

“Likely story,” Lucius sneered. “You’ve been Dumbledore’s lap dog for years. He kept you out of Azkaban by announcing to the whole Wizengamot that you were his spy!”

Knowing that any attempt to stand would meet with failure, Snape strained to wriggle and push himself into a sitting position. After closing his eyes for a few seconds when a spasm coursed through his entire body, Severus again locked his gaze on the Dark Lord even as he spoke to his fellow Death Eater. “I’ll have you know…, Lucius, I…took up my post at Hogwarts…as ‘Dumbledore’s spy’…because _our_ Master…told me to do so. If I…had really changed…sides, I would have run like Karkaroff. I would not…have returned to let the Dark Lord take his…pleasure with me.”

It was becoming easier to speak as he sat unmoving despite the waves of dizziness that caused Severus to sway unsteadily. He closed his eyes and took several deep calming breaths before meeting Voldemort’s eyes again. “My mind is fully open to our Lord. I have nothing to hide. Can you say the same?”

“It’s not my allegiance that is in question,” Lucius spat.

With a rush of adrenaline Severus shoved himself to his feet. “If you think I’m a lap dog because I followed orders,” he shouted directly into the blonde’s face, “and have continued to do so all these years, I have to…” As another surge of pain overtook him, Snape’s words were choked off. When the tremors passed he snarled, “I have to question your loyalties. You avoided,” he curled his lip in derision, “…consequences by claiming that you’d never been a true follower of our Lord but that you became a Death Eater only because you were under the Imperius curse. Who is the loyal…” He never got to finish.

Simultaneously as the Dark Lord cast _“Crucio”_ , Lucius glared at Snape and cast _“Sectumsempra”_. As bad luck would have it, a split second later Wormtail cast _“Tarantallegra”_. Unable to stop the inevitable Severus fell to the stone floor on his right side further mangling his broken arm. The dancing curse made his legs jerk and spasm uncontrollably and Snape ended up flat on his back. The Cruciatus Curse alone was agony; now it caused every boil, sting, cut, muscle and nerve ending in his already abused body to explode with pain. His bones felt like they were on fire. No longer able to control himself, Severus shrieked.

As Snape thrashed on the floor he saw Lucius madly slashing the air with his wand. The first gash tore open Snape’s chest from navel to breast. The brother and sister Death Eaters began working together. Amycus levitated Snape about a foot high then Alecto rotated his body, before Amycus dropped him onto the floor. Lucius ripped open Snape's back diagonally from shoulder to waist, then from waist to the other shoulder. Once again flipped, Lucius lacerated Snape's stomach and lower abdomen first left to right, then right to left. Face-down again, three cuts sliced across the back of his legs. After another rotation Lucius slit the front of Snape's thighs and blood spurted from the severed femoral artery.

It was clear that Lucius was going out of his way to be vicious. Severus tasted blood in his mouth as a gash opened across his nose and his cheek was flayed to the bone. His robes were shredded and soaked in blood. The pain had become so intense that he could no longer distinguish when a new cut appeared. With every jerk of his body, his broken arm flailed against the stone floor. His throat was raw as his screams echoed throughout the room.

Severus knew he was going to die. Better than anyone he understood the seriousness of the Sectumsempra Curse. He had angered Lucius by taunting him. He had angered the Dark Lord by revealing his tactics, and now Severus was going to pay for it. The worst thing was that he’d let his emotions get the better of him and now he would fail in his most important mission – his mission to save that irritating insufferable mediocre boy…for Lily. As he lost consciousness, he peered into the red slits in the Dark Lord’s face, but it was Lily’s beautiful green eyes that he saw in his mind.


	2. Tested

Snape’s head throbbed. His body was stiff and his joints ached from being so long on the cold floor. He tried to open his eyes and when he couldn’t, he panicked, wondering what they’d done to take away his sight. Even the Conjunctivitus Curse only caused irritation - it didn’t blind. The stab of pain that shot through his right arm as he reached up reminded him vividly that it was broken. Using his left hand he soon figured out that the pus from the boils mixed with the blood from the cuts had dried and crusted over his eyes. He worked with his fingers for several minutes to gouge at the mess and clear his vision. When he could finally see, he was staring directly at Nagini.

With a start he jumped back and then wished he hadn’t. Everything hurt. The boils, stings, and fiery carvings still covered his body although the pain was fading. Without a potion, it would take a while for the effects of the Cruciatus Cruse to diminish but it was something he’d previously experienced. Nagini raised her head and flicked her tongue as she sniffed him. Snape was sure she was testing to see if he’d make a good meal. He didn’t like that snake.

As Snape pushed down on the floor to move away from the glistening fangs weaving in front of his face, he put his left hand in something sticky. When he pulled it up to examine it he saw that it was covered in blood. Nagini slid towards him and Snape wondered if she was attracted by his scent or the massive amount of blood…his blood…that surrounded him on the floor and on his robes.

The snake hissed and Severus thought she was coming after him. Instead, she slithered away and must have gone to tell the Dark Lord that he’d regained consciousness because the vile man entered the room less than a minute later.

“Well, well,” Lord Voldemort said as he took his seat in the armchair in front of Snape, “you’ve finally rejoined my party. Too bad all the others have left.”

Actually, Severus was glad to hear they were gone. At least there weren’t a half-dozen here to torture him. “I live only to serve you, Master.” He kept his eyes on the floor.

“Yes, you do,” Voldemort stated firmly.

“Master, how…” he croaked. His mouth was dry, his lips were cracked, his throat was sore and it was hard to speak. “How long…?” Snape looked up.

“How long has it been since I’ve been reborn?” Lord Voldemort extended his bony hands into the firelight, admiring the long skeletal white fingers. He ran one hand across his hairless scalp, felt his eyes and the flat slits that were his nose. His thin mouth smiled at the tactile sensations he’d missed for so long. “Almost twenty-four hours.”

Severus wanted to scream at the arrogance of the man but realized that in his mind, the whole world revolved around him. No matter, he knew now that he’d been out for several hours but less than a day. The Dark Lord raised his wand and Snape shuddered wondering what was coming next – wondered if this was why he’d been kept alive – to be tortured again.

Why _was_ he alive? His robes were slashed to pieces and encrusted with dried blood. He examined his chest and legs through the blood-soaked tears in the fabric and found smooth, unblemished skin. After Lucius’s attack, Severus knew he should be dead. Obviously he’d been healed before it was too late. He wondered how. Few knew the healing charm for the Sectumsempra Curse. He wondered why – why had the Dark Lord kept him alive?

Lord Voldemort conjured a couch opposite his chair. “Sit.”

Slipping his right arm into the front of his robes in an attempt to support it, Snape rolled onto his stomach, put his left hand on the floor and tried to push up. He couldn’t lift himself at all. Scooting over next to the couch he grabbed its arm and tried to pull himself up. He got about a foot off the floor before he lost his grip and fell onto his backside. He broke out in a cold sweat as he sat there panting. Every muscle, nerve, and bone in his body screamed in agony. After catching his breath, he slid around so his back was against the couch and tried to push off with his legs to lift his body onto the seat. He got up about six inches before his feet slipped out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. He bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming. As he caught his breath, he didn’t try to get up again. He lowered his eyes and whispered, “My Lord, I am sitting.”

For a moment Lord Voldemort scowled then threw his head back and laughed in his high, cold voice. “You have cheek, Severus. Wormtail!” he shouted. “Get in here and make yourself useful.”

The small man rushed into the room. “My Lord, how may I serve you?”

“Bring the potion, water and firewhisky.”

Bowing his head, Wormtail spoke in a rush, “Yes, my Lord; right away, my Lord.” He scurried from the room.

Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Snape, who tensed, closed his eyes and wondered what else he was going to have to endure for that Gryffindor brat. Hearing the Dark Lord cast _Mobilicorpus_ Severus opened his eyes in surprise. With unexpected gentleness, he was lifted and placed on the couch. He adjusted his right arm attempting to make it rest comfortably. Of all his injuries, the accidental breaking of the three major bones in his arm was by far the worst.

The Cruciatus Curse he’d expected from Voldemort. It was how one was frequently greeted even if he wasn’t unhappy with you. Except for Lucius, the Death Eaters hadn’t hit him with anything different than what students did to each other. The curses were irritating, but nothing that was permanent or life threatening. He was very weak, however.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. Severus wished he could mend his arm or at least do a charm that would mask the pain; but he dare not do any magic. He was still at the Dark Lord’s mercy and it wouldn’t pay to anger him again. Snape rubbed his hand along his nose and cheek. He felt dried blood although the deep lacerations were gone.

“When I desire you dead, you will die," Voldemort's eyes followed Snape's explorations of his injuries, "perhaps by my hand; perhaps by another’s. The time and place of your death will be my choice.”

Snape lowered his hand to his lap but kept eye contact. “Yes, Master.”

“Lucius got carried away. He was punished.” With great effort, Severus didn’t smile as the Dark Lord continued to speak. “Pain is good for you – it makes you strong. I don’t want you dead, at least not yet. You can perhaps still be useful to me so I kept you from bleeding to death and healed the deep cuts. I left the rest of your wounds as a reminder of the power of your Lord and Master.”

It galled him to bow down to this monster, but it was the roll he’d taken on many years ago. No one had forced him to study the Dark Arts. No one had forced him to become a Death Eater. No one had forced him to reveal the prophecy. No one had forced him to play a role in the murder of James and Lily Potter. But he had. Now, all he wanted was for Lord Voldemort to be gone and if that meant being subservient to a vicious, sadistic, racist tyrant he would do it. “Yes, my Lord. You are merciful to your most humble servant.”

When Wormtail returned he stood with eyes downcast beside the Dark Lord's chair. Taking one of the goblets, Voldemort motioned at the tray, “That’s a Blood-Replenishing Potion. You need it after all the blood you lost.”

As the little man presented the drinks, Snape saw the word ‘coward’ burned into Wormtail’s forehead. Snape’s lip curled as he stared pointedly at the brand. Wormtail turned away. Though worried about what might really be in the potion Severus knew better than to sniff at it as that would show distrust. He downed it and two goblets of water before taking a firewhisky. He wished he had the other potions that would counteract the effects of the curses he’d endured. For now however, the water and liquor was what he had and it had to suffice.

Several seconds passed before Voldemort spoke. “You still have feelings for the dead Mudblood.”

Snape’s head snapped around to face the Dark Lord and Severus saw the other’s lip curled in disgust. _Had he let too much of himself show through the Occlumency shield he’d erected?_ He’d thought of Lily when he was certain he was dying. It all made sense now. Lucius hadn’t lost control; he had cast the Sectumsempra Curse on the Dark Lord’s orders. By making Severus think he had nothing to lose Voldemort had planned to trick him into revealing his true allegiance.

It had been a subtle attack, much better than using Veritaserum or any other potion that could be counteracted with skill or an antidote taken beforehand. It was also much more effective than torture which the Dark Lord knew Severus could resist. He realized he had been foolish; still he must not have revealed anything other than his feelings for Lily before he passed out or he wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“All those years ago you pleaded with me to save her.” Voldemort bared his teeth in a ghoulish parody of a grin.

“Master, I…” Severus began.

“Don’t try to deny it! I saw it in your mind,” Voldemort snapped. "I never understood why you lusted after her but a man's carnal needs can overcome his better judgment," he grinned lasciviously. "For you – my loyal servant – I gave her a chance; I told her to stand aside so I could kill the boy.” Voldemort shook his head. “She was only a woman. There are plenty of them out there of purer blood, more worthy of you. You can take another whenever you feel the urge.”

“Yes, Master.” _Dumbledore is right_ , Snape thought, _the Dark Lord doesn’t understand love_. Sitting across from the man who’d murdered Lily, the desire to blast him into oblivion was strong. Severus didn't understand why Dumbledore had been so emphatic that Snape never attempt to kill Lord Voldemort even if the opportunity arose.

“You claim you delayed answering my call out of loyalty to me, not because you’ve gone over to the other side?” Voldemort sat back and placed both hands on the arms of the chair.

“Yes, Master." The Dark Lord's stare was so intense that Snape felt like an insect impaled upon a pin. "I needed Dumbledore to think I was returning to you on his orders. Because he still trusts me, I’ll be able to remain at Hogwarts as your spy.” Severus felt his gorge rise as he added with emphasis on the middle word, “Your loyal spy.”

"Are you loyal to me?" Voldemort demanded as he leaned forward closing the distance between himself and Snape. "Wormtail has told me of the things that happened after my unexpected exodus from the mortal world. He described in great detail the testimony Dumbledore gave during your trial where, under oath, he affirmed that you had betrayed me and became his spy. Dumbledore demonstrated his complete faith in you when he said, 'He is now no more a Death Eater than I am'." Voldemort smirked at the surprised expression on his minion's face. "So you thought because the proceedings were closed to the general public that I wouldn't hear the details? Perhaps you forgot that Wormtail lived with those blood traitors for years?"

At mention of his name, the little man hovering across the room squeaked but neither of the others paid him any attention.

"No Master! I'm not surprised because you know about the trial or Dumbledore's trust in me." Snape bowed his head and if he'd been able he would have dropped to his knees. "Forgive my impertinence, Master, I'm surprised because you question my actions." Even with downturned eyes, Snape could see the Dark Lord tense. As he wondered if he'd soon be struck with another curse – or worse – Snape continued quickly. "You sent me to Dumbledore with instructions to appear to join his side giving him whatever reason I felt would best convince him."

"Yes, and you told me he believed that your love of the Mudblood was enough to cause you to betray me." Voldemort snorted, "The fool believes love is the most powerful force – more powerful than my magic – so of course he would believe your story. But after I saw the…love…" Voldemort spat the word as something vile, "…for that woman in your mind I have doubts; I wonder if you did become his spy; I worry that you are still his spy."

_This is it_ , Snape thought, _I live or die in the next few minutes_. "Master," Severus looked up and spoke quietly, "I can't hide my love of Lily from you, nor would I try. It is a failing I could not – cannot – seem to overcome. I also knew it was the most convincing story I could tell Dumbledore as my reason for coming to him. I spun him a tale of the deepest remorse for my involvement in targeting Lily's child and he believes me unequivocally."

"What am I to do with you Severus?" Voldemort shook his head and with the ends of his wand in both hands, twirled it. "You say that you play your part so well you've convinced Dumbledore of your loyalty. I grudgingly acknowledge he is one of the greatest wizards – not someone easily fooled. How can I know you're not playing a part to deceive me?" For several seconds Lord Voldemort delved into Snape's mind. "I don't wish to lose a valuable asset. You can be such a useful tool in the enemy camp – if you're really faithful to me."

"I am Master," Snape said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "I came to you as a young man with hopes to achieve great things. I was still very young when you vanished and quite frankly, I was lost and alone. I believed you were finished and I made no attempt to find you." He shook his head. "I'm not proud of my lack of faith in your greatness; in your ability to cheat death."

"It wasn't only you," the Dark Lord spat. "Those that weren't in Azkaban either went into hiding or denied their loyalty to me. I should kill the lot of you." He jerked his wand up and pointed it at Snape. "Of course, if I did that, I'd have very few followers," with a glance towards Wormtail, Voldemort lowered his wand, "and those that would be left are not the most intelligent of my Death Eaters."

With a raised eyebrow, Snape nodded in agreement. "Now that you're back, my Lord, I crave the power and influence that I've been denied all these years."

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said silkily. "I see that you recognize the great truth that Dumbledore never has – that there is no good or evil, only power and those who are too weak to use it." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That's quite the Slytherin attitude you have there."

"Indeed," Severus drawled with the hint of a smirk. "That one of the most powerful wizards of our time gave testimony that I was no longer a Death Eater is simply proof that I succeeded in doing as you commanded, Master. He never knew – still doesn't know – that I came to him on your orders." Even though it infuriated him, Snape bowed his head knowing Voldemort expected the demonstration of respect.

"Perhaps," Voldemort hissed as he pointed his wand, "or maybe you really did join his Order. Look at me!" When Snape complied, Voldemort cast "Legilimens." After several minutes of scrutiny, Voldemort dropped his wand seemingly satisfied at what he'd read. "You may be correct that your staying at Hogwarts isn't as disloyal as some of the others."

Pleased that the projection of his disgust at Karkaroff's whimpering cowardice during the months the Dark Mark had been growing stronger and his contempt for Lucius' distortion of his true role as a Death Eater had diverted further probing of his mind, Snape sipped his firewhisky. While not as good as a pain reliving potion, it was dulling the ache in his arm.

"Why did you stay at Hogwarts after you believed me done for? Wormtail has told me how you conduct your classes." Voldemort's cold, shrill laugh came out as a high-pitched cackle. "You certainly don't like teaching."

"I hate it," Snape spat with real vehemence, "but who was going to hire an ex Death Eater? I was twenty-one years old with no employment prospects. Dumbledore offered me a permanent position that included room and board. His protection kept me out of prison; it was most convenient and I used it." Snape's voice dropped to a whisper. "It was a comfortable job that I preferred to a stint in Azkaban."

"So," Voldemort asked, "are you simply a coward – no different from our rat friend over there? It seems that you stayed under Dumbledore's protection because it was the safe path."

Tamping down his anger with great effort, keeping his face impassive and his breathing even, Snape nodded. "My Lord, because I have stayed by Dumbledore's side, I have fourteen years of information on the man that I can give you. I also have knowledge about Harry Potter. There is no one else close to you who is as valuable."

"And that," Voldemort leaned back and steepled his thin, white fingers together, "is both a blessing and a curse. How can I trust someone who has been under the thrall of Dumbledore for so long?"

"My Lord," Severus put his goblet on the couch, grasped his broken right arm with his left, and slid off the couch onto his bum with a thud. The jolt of pain throughout his whole right side caused his breath to catch and his eyes to close momentarily. Leaning forward he was barely able to grasp the hem of Voldemort's robe with his left hand and pull it to his mouth where he kissed it. "I live to serve you, my Lord." Seconds passed in the silent room filled only with the Snape's panting as he tried to tamp down the agony he felt throughout his body.

The boney hand of Lord Voldemort reached down to touch the dark head of the man on the floor. "You are a slippery one, Severus. I didn't know if I could trust you when I was at Hogwarts three years ago with Quirrell. I was too frail to take a chance because if you were Dumbledore's stooge, it could have ended badly for me."

"Had I known it was you, Master..." Severus struggled to meet the vile face above him. With as much enthusiasm as he could manage through his pain he continued, "…and not that greedy and untrustworthy Quirrell who was after the Philosopher's Stone, I would have assisted you." Snape felt the Dark Lord enter his mind. Severus pushed forward all the thoughts of working with Dumbledore against the former Dark Arts teacher that he needed Voldemort to see.

"Of that, I now have no doubt. You're sure Dumbledore trusts you?" Voldemort asked. "He still thinks you're loyal to the Order?"

"Yes, my Lord. I've given him no reason to question my loyalty." Severus shifted to try to relieve the pressure on the lesions, lacerations, and stings on his body but gave it up as a lost cause. "As I said earlier, my return to you upon…" Snape smirked and stressed the next word, "…his order ensured that I can remain at Hogwarts as your spy."

"I’m very pleased that you stayed at your post,” the Dark Lord again levitated Snape onto the couch, “and were thinking about my victory instead of yourself. Some of my Death Eaters only think of the riches or power they will gain, and how they can avoid punishment. If I had dozens like you I’d be victorious much sooner.”

"When the Dark Mark started growing stronger," Severus nodded towards his left arm, "I was certain you were about to return. I began to think about what I wanted to do, to plan my next move. There was never any doubt I'd rejoin to the greatest wizard to ever live." Raising his glass in a salute and looking directly at the revolting and inhuman reptilian face, Snape swallowed the bile that threatened to come up in a drink of the firewhisky.

The thin white lips of Lord Voldemort curled back in what, for him, was a grin as he acknowledged the gesture with a sip of his firewhisky.

With this tacit acceptance of Snape's allegiance, it was now time to prove his worth as the Dark Lord’s spy.


	3. Accepted

Snape reported how Fudge refused to believe both Potter’s story of the Dark Lord’s rebirth, and his revelation of the identities of the Death Eaters who’d responded to the summons. He told Voldemort of Dumbledore’s recommendation that Fudge remove the dementors from Azkaban, and make overtures to the giants to secure them as allies for the ministry. He described Fudge’s fears that Dumbledore was out to overthrow him and become Minister of Magic. Snape explained how the most important thing to Fudge was not doing anything that would cause the Wizarding community to reject his leadership.

“Your forces will be able to gain control in the Ministry with little opposition, my Lord,” Snape said. “The Minister believes Dumbledore is trying to start a panic and destabilize the government so anything you do to create havoc in the world at large will ram a larger wedge between the two of them.”

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. A few raids with lots of casualties, a building or two destroyed here and there, and some destruction that Muggles will think is odd weather will cause quite a bit of chaos.”

“Fudge completely rejected the ideas of removing the dementors from Azkaban and contacting the giants, Master. He’s terrified of the public backlash of such actions.”

“Good,” Voldemort nodded. “The dementors will join me because they know I’ll give them free reign over not only the Wizarding World, but the Muggles as well. They’ll be able to take their pleasures wherever they choose. As for the giants, I’ll let them move into any location and do anything they feel like to both people and property. I won’t force them into hiding as the Ministry has done.”

With a sneer that wasn’t pretense, Snape said, “Potter has no credibility with the Minister. He thinks the boy is an attention seeking liar who tells tall tales because he likes being famous.”

“That boy is supposed to be dead!” Voldemort shrieked, raised his wand and shouted _“Crucio!”_

Snape tensed but the pain didn’t come. Wormtail squealed as he fell to the floor next to the fireplace. Severus sipped his firewhisky and watched dispassionately as the other wizard writhed and screamed. It was at least a full minute before the Dark Lord’s wrath ebbed and he released the curse.

When the echoes of the screams died away and were replaced with quiet sobs, Snape faced the Dark Lord. His wand was still raised and the rage radiating from him threatened to explode again. Snape continued as if nothing had interrupted, “Yes Master. Potter’s death would have been preferable. I've had murderous thoughts towards the boy many times during the last four years; however killing Dumbledore's pet student would have put my protection and…comfort…at risk.”

"Comfort is overrated," Voldemort sneered as he lowered his wand. "Then again, it was fortuitous that Potter's blood was available for my rebirthing."

Unsure why he hadn’t been cursed also, Snape bowed his head slightly, maintaining eye contact. “I beg your indulgence, Master.” With the slightest of hand gestures Lord Voldemort indicated permission to proceed. “I have an idea about how you can use Potter’s regrettable survival to your advantage.”

While tasked by Dumbledore with keeping Potter alive, Snape didn’t have to make the boy’s life pleasant so it was with no guilt that he explained his thoughts about the child. “Potter is a show-off who thinks he’s a great tragic hero. He enjoys his celebrity and seeks to stay in the limelight. My Lord, we can make his report of your return be seen as simply one of the many of ridiculous tales he’s told.”

Voldemort sat up a little straighter and tilted his head to the side, apparently considering the idea.

“Most of the magical community takes the _Daily Prophet_ seriously," Severus continued. "Today, or I guess it was yesterday, it was reported that Potter ‘is disturbed, unstable and possibly dangerous’. We can build upon that, manipulate the news and turn Potter into a symbol of ridicule that nobody believes rather than a symbol of hope to rally around. His escape from death can be made to benefit your rise to power Master, instead of making him a martyr.”

“Yes,” Lord Voldemort’s lip curled, “perhaps this will work. At least until I can get my hands on him again.”

“He’s a stupid, deluded, unbalanced child whose only talent is getting into trouble, my Lord. We can make him into a joke so that the stories he's telling about you won't be believed by the wizards on the street.” Snape was encouraged by the slight nodding of Voldemort’s head as he seemed to agree. “Dumbledore is a meddling, senile old fool although many witches and wizards respect him. Since he openly supports Potter’s wild stories it will be a simple matter to discredit him along with the boy.”

“Not only discredit him,” Voldemort snarled, “also get him removed from the Wizengamot, the International Confederation of Wizards, and all other positions of authority.”

“Absolutely, my Lord,” Snape agreed. “I was present when Dumbledore and Fudge argued. The Minister is an idiot and he's insecure in his position. He fears Dumbledore so it should be a simple matter to influence Fudge and cause him to purge the Ministry of all who support Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.”

“I’d hoped to have more time.” Running a finger along his cheek, Voldemort sighed, “News of my return wasn’t meant to get to Dumbledore so quickly. We may be able to fool the magical community with false reports in the _Daily Prophet_ , but not him.”

Fully expecting to be punished for his words, Snape knew he had to further debase himself. He needed to do everything he could to prove his complete subservience to Voldemort. “I know I failed you, Master.” Snape bowed his head. “If I’d been able to silence Potter before he talked, to kill him, or at least cast Oblivate on him you would have had the time you need to strengthen your position.”

“You did fail me, Severus,” the Dark Lord sighed.

Surprised when the words were not spoken in anger, Severus looked up and saw Voldemort examining his wand almost as if he’d never seen it before.

“But so did I,” the Dark Lord admitted. “I failed to kill him and I failed to keep him from escaping.” He shook his head in frustration. “Dumbledore’s already reforming his Order isn’t he?”

“Unfortunately yes, Master. He sent an envoy to them the same night he sent me to you.” Catching the twitch of the Dark Lord’s wand, Snape added quickly, “At least he thought he was sending me to you. I would have come on my own. I would never abandon you, my Lord.”

“Stop your whimpering and get up off the floor!” Lord Voldemort growled at Wormtail. “Bring more potion for Severus and some wine; the good stuff.”

“Y…ye…yes, Master.”

Snape drained the last of his firewhisky as he watched Wormtail fall three times trying to get to his feet.

“And who is this envoy?” Voldemort asked.

The interview was going about the way Dumbledore and Snape had anticipated, though he couldn’t help but feel satisfaction as he told the Dark Lord, “It's Sirius Black, my Lord.”

“Wormtail told me about him." Voldemort tapped his skeletal finger on his bone-white chin. "I suppose I need to thank Mr. Black for his assistance.”

Snape tried to figure out how a man he’d hated for most of his life could have helped the return of the Dark Lord. With a surge of joy Severus hoped he’d be able to tell Dumbledore that Black was a traitor…that he was on the wrong side in this war.

At Snape’s puzzled expression, Lord Voldemort explained. “Wormtail, self-serving coward that he is, was instrumental in the sequence of events that allowed my rebirth last night.” He nodded at the nervous little man who’d just walked into the room. “If he’d not been flushed out of his existence as a rat by Black’s efforts Wormtail would never have found me.”

“Ah, yes,” Snape snarled as he took another goblet of the potion, “the ever helpful Sirius Black.” He downed the vile tasting liquid in one gulp and chased it with two goblets of water. Although still not in good shape, Severus was feeling stronger. It appeared he had been given a blood restorative as the Dark Lord had indicated.

Scarlet eyes gleaming, Lord Voldemort took a drink of his wine. “With Black at large, the idiot Fudge and his stooges in the Ministry can be manipulated into blaming my triumphs over Mudbloods and blood traitors on the ‘vicious escaped killer, Sirius Black’.”

As he sipped the quite good wine Snape smiled coldly, “Very true, my Lord. Black is, after all, from a noble pure-blood family who would be expected to be one of your most loyal followers.”

Lord Voldemort cackled. “I couldn’t have planned this better myself.”

“No my Lord,” Snape didn’t try to keep the joy from his voice. “Black will be a useful tool for you…for us.”

Frowning, Voldemort asked, “Wormtail told me everyone thinks Black is guilty. Why is Dumbledore using a supposed escaped mass murderer to contact his group?”

Now it was Snape’s turn to laugh. “For the same reason Dumbledore thinks I’m his man, Master. Black told him he is innocent, and Dumbledore trusts Black.” The laughter was not a good idea as it made him hurt, badly.

“Is that really all it took?” Voldemort asked, clearly puzzled.

With a look of triumph plastered on his face, Snape asserted, “Yes Master. It’s Dumbledore’s greatest flaw; he has to believe the best of people. Through all these years, he has never stopped trusting Severus Snape.”

A wicked grin grew on Voldemort’s face. “Lucius covets the position at my right hand. Of all my Death Eaters you Severus perhaps have the greatest value to me.” In this moment of relaxed conversation Snape was ready for the probing of his thoughts.


	4. Trusted

When Severus awoke the only illumination in the room was the dull red glow from the low burning fire in the grate. He was stretched out on the couch where the last thing he remembered was Lord Voldemort using Legilimency on him.

As he sat up, he jarred his arm and pain shot through his whole right side. Turning his head cautiously, he discovered that he was alone, even Nagini was gone. His cloak had been placed over his legs, and his Death Eater mask was on the floor beside the couch. It appeared he’d been welcomed back into the ranks of the Dark Lord. Pulling out his wand he built up the fire and re-lit the candles in the chandelier.

Snape cast a charm to mask his pain and for the first time in hours, nothing hurt. Gently pulling with his left hand, he tried to extend his broken arm and discovered it wouldn’t straighten. It hadn’t been healed immediately after the break and thus it had started to draw together. He figured that all the bones would have to be removed and then re-grown – however that would have to wait.

He conjured a mirror and examined his face. It wasn’t vanity; he needed to remove all evidence of what he’d endured before returning to Hogwarts. He couldn’t afford any questions. _Tergeo_ removed the dried blood and other fluids from his face and clothes. _Reparo_ fixed the tears in his robes. The boils and stings had mostly faded and he only needed to bleach a few spots to be able to pass by people unnoticed. He’d heal them properly once he had the time and the correct potions.

One effect of the Cruciatus Curse was extreme fatigue and Severus was certainly feeling it. He sat on the couch wondering how long he’d been asleep this time. Glancing at his watch he saw that it had been smashed during his torture. As he started to dose off again Snape jumped to his feet. He needed to get back to…to his other master.

For a moment he stood and pondered the course his life had taken. He’d made choices while very young that had integrally tied him to the schemes and goals of another, be it the Dark Lord or Albus Dumbledore. Severus had never been his own man with a destiny or purpose he’d chosen. When he’d lost Lily he had given himself fully to the Dark Side and since then, he’d never once been free.

With a final glance at the pool of his blood now dried on the shiny floor, he stuffed the mask into his robes and tried to swing the cloak over his shoulders. He was still struggling to get it in place using only his left arm when the Dark Lord entered the room and stood silently watching him. It took several tries; finally one last awkward tug pulled the garment into place.

Snape knew he couldn’t be delayed much longer as his absence was likely already causing talk. With some trepidation, he bowed his head and said, “My Lord, I need to leave or the headmaster will start to suspect me.”

“You’ve been isolated in that school…” Voldemort spat the next words as something foul, “…around children and Muggle lovers for too long. You’ve grown soft.”

Snape almost chuckled to hear the Dark Lord saying virtually the same thing as he’d thought not too many hours ago. “This is true, my Lord. I have to present a certain persona in order to function in that environment.”

Voldemort scowled. “I know, and I sent you into that place. You perform the role of professor admirably but I cannot have my Death Eaters crippled by feelings and emotions. They sap your strength and make you ineffective. This must be rectified.”

Not sure where this was headed, Snape decided a generic response was safest. “How may I serve you, Master?”

“You and several of your Slytherin housemates joined me as mere youngsters. Lucius had told me of your extraordinary skill with potions and with creating new curses.” When the long, bony white fingers patted him on the left shoulder Severus barely kept from jerking away. He knew the touch of Voldemort was meant to show the Death Eater was highly favored by ‘his Master’ but Snape no longer coveted this kind of approval. “Being isolated, hunched over your cauldron, robbed you of the opportunity to repeat the excitement of the kill.”

It was true, Snape remembered. After his initiation as a Death Eater he’d resented always being left behind wondering if the Dark Lord had thought him too young, too inexperienced, or too likely to get caught. Hoping to fit in with those in his house, he’d embraced the blood purity rhetoric of Lord Voldemort. For the first time in his life Snape thought he’d have real friends, or at least people with whom to share things. Then as always happened – he was left out.

“The untraceable poisons and pain inducing potions you developed were quite useful. I expect you to bring me supplies the next time you’re summoned.” The slits of Lord Voldemort’s eyes narrowed and gleamed bright red as a ghastly parody of joy overtook the reptilian features. “Your masterpiece was the potion that caused the incurable hemorrhagic fever. It was a stroke of genius when you discovered how to introduce it into the water supply to infect whole villages.” He paused and turned his head sideways. “Too bad I only had a chance to test it on a small sample before…before my premature departure.” Voldemort laughed heartily, “We’ll fix that problem this time. It will bring fear to hundreds and a painful death to many Muggles and Mudbloods alike.”

Severus’s stomach churned – had it not been empty he would have vomited. He had once been pleased with his creations; now he was revolted with what he’d produced in the service of the Dark Lord. As much as Snape liked to lie to himself and think he’d murdered only once, the truth was that Severus Snape had no idea how many people he’d killed. He made a silent vow to all the people who'd died because of his actions that their deaths had not been in vain.

Spying for Dumbledore had been a very small way to atone for some of his crimes. He was certain that he'd brought Dumbledore critical information that had saved lives or thwarted the Dark Lord's plans. Snape knew he was a good spy and while he'd never planned to again serve the vile wizard standing before him, Snape hoped he lived long enough to make a difference this time. His ponderings had caused him to miss some of what Voldemort had said.

“…seen the light leave a person’s eyes; you have only once smelled the fear on your victim as they realized they were going to die; you have only once experienced the thrill of hearing their shrieks as they breathed their last…” With an expression of ecstasy that made Severus feel like retching, Lord Voldemort went on “…or even better, when they beg for the life of a loved one.” Voldemort tapped his fingers on his chin, clearly remembering something. “Mothers trying to protect their children are the best…usually.”

Watching Voldemort reminisce, almost certainly about killing Lily, Snape recalled how he’d begged the Dark Lord to spare her life. He’d pointed out, and the Dark Lord had agreed, that to keep the prophecy from being fulfilled only the baby had to die, although Severus had encouraged the elimination of the father too. Snape had thought so little of human life that two could die if he got what he wanted out of the deal. It hadn't bothered him at the time; now it sickened him.

“A good violent murder purges you of the emotions that make you weak and it's good for your self-esteem. The death of another fills you with incredible strength,” the Dark Lord smiled. “It’s time for you to regain your confidence…it’s time for my genius potions master to kill again.”

Severus managed to keep the horror out of his voice as he asked, “Who do you need me to…” It was hard for him to even say it aloud. “…kill, my Lord?” It seemed that he’d bought Potter a reprieve, yet now Snape wondered if he was going to be asked to murder the boy.

“I haven’t decided but it won’t be some anonymous Muggle like before. It will be someone worthy of your talents and someone who will bring you respect among your peers.”

He isn’t anonymous, Severus remembered with a pang of remorse; his name was Jeremy Sloan and he was seventeen years old. Though he didn't seek out their company, Snape no longer held Muggles in contempt. He consciously kept his breathing slow and his face impassive as the boy’s image swam into his mind unbidden. It was true that at the time Snape had committed the murder he hadn’t known the boy’s name. Years later he’d spent months searching for the identity of the boy he’d killed in order to prove he was worthy to become a Death Eater. He wanted to find out whose blood was mingled with his. Snape’s knees were getting rubbery and not only from the current conversation but from the lingering effects of the ordeal he’d endured. “Master, my position as your agent could be compromised if I were to….”

“I know,” Lord Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. “You have to show a pretense of respectability to Dumbledore and the world. I’m confident that an opportunity for your next kill can be arranged so it won’t jeopardize your usefulness to me.”

To speak of killing so casually, as if talking about hunting an animal sickened Snape. He wasn’t sure when or how it had happened, but sometime during the last thirteen years his youthful thirst for blood had disappeared. “My Lord, I’ve no…”

“I know you’re embarrassed that you’ve only killed once.” Voldemort's face twisted into what for him was a smile. “It will come back to you easily. You’ll have no problem at all.”

Severus had meant to say he didn’t ‘need to be honored in this way’, however since most Death Eaters coveted this aspect of service to the Dark Lord, it was better to keep still. He’d deal with the reality of murder when he was given a target. “Thank you. It is my honor to serve you, Master.” 

“Go now. Next time you’re summoned, don’t be late…” Voldemort flicked his wand and hit Severus with a non-verbal _Crucio_. It was lifted as abruptly as it was put on him. “…or I won’t be so lenient.”

Despite being short-lived, the curse left Severus gasping for air and caused his already weakened legs to buckle. He fell to his knees and panted to suppress the scream that rose in his throat. He bent lower and kissed the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes as if he’d dropped intentionally in obedience. “Your mercy is undeserved by your most humble servant, my Lord.” Snape pulled himself to his feet, gave a curt bow and swept down the stairs, out the door and into the yard.

Squinting in the bright light, Severus noticed that the sun was high in the sky. It was obviously near noon – but of what day? He turned on the spot and Apparated to Hogsmeade.


	5. Memories

As he walked through the village of Hogsmeade, Severus contemplated this new turn of events. Although relieved that he’d not been tasked with murder immediately, he knew there would come a time when he would have to kill someone or break his cover. Dumbledore felt that Snape’s role as a double agent made him valuable to the Order but would the headmaster condone murder to maintain that conduit of information? Or would Severus be sacrificed and revealed as a traitor to the Dark Lord if he didn’t kill as commanded? Severus sighed and expelled a big breath in resignation.

Dumbledore was fond of saying one had to choose between what was right and what was easy, implying that the easy path wasn't always the right path. Severus knew murder was never the right choice, but defying Voldemort wasn't an easy choice either. No one defied the Dark Lord and lived. Would it be an act of cowardice, Snape wondered, to knowingly disobey and allow the Dark Lord to kill him? Or could Severus find a solution that would keep him in the good graces of both his masters?

Snape had sworn obedience to the Dark Lord and pledged to give his life if asked to do so. The Dark Lord was Snape’s master – from whom loyalty was demanded. Dumbledore had tried to save the Potter family and had kept Snape out of Azkaban. Dumbledore was Snape’s master – to whom loyalty was freely given. He served one because of youthful arrogance and the other because of a promise. Severus knew he was not truly committed to either master or either cause. In the end it came down to him having dedicated his life to Lily not just out of love, but most importantly out of profound guilt and the desire to redeem himself.

The faces of Jeremy, Emily, and Sam Sloan crowded Snape’s mind. He thought about the test that had marked his acceptance as a faithful follower of the Dark Lord. Snape had changed so much since that time when, as a foolish young man, he had been overjoyed to take the Dark Mark. He'd never told Dumbledore the details of the Marking ceremony. He'd never told Dumbledore what the Dark Lord required of each Death Eater candidate as proof of their worthiness to serve him. Would Dumbledore have stood up for him at his trial after the last war if Dumbledore had known the full extent of what Severus had done in the service of Lord Voldemort?

Severus remembered that night.

 

_Snape was in Knockturn Alley leaning on the wall of Borgin and Burkes barely outside the glow of the light over the shop door. He was trying to appear casual as he waited for Lucius to arrive, however the butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t settle down. He kept crossing his arms, then dropping them. He clenched his fists then relaxed them. He put his hand on his wand every few seconds even though he knew it was tucked firmly into his robes._

_“Hey, Severus,” a familiar voice hissed out of the darkness. “Are you waiting for Lucius too?”_

_Hoping his jump of surprise hadn’t been seen, Snape whispered with forced calm, “Yes Wilkes.” His Slytherin classmate slinked up in front of him and stopped. Before he could say anything else Snape heard footsteps._

_“I didn’t know Malfoy asked you weaklings to be here,” snarled Rosier. “I thought the Dark Lord only recruited wizards with backbones.”_

_“Aw, shut up, Rosier,” Wilkes snapped. “We’re as loyal to the Dark Lord as you. Just because we don’t go around torturing and killing animals doesn’t mean we’re weak.”_

_It had become common knowledge among most of the Slytherin seventh-years that Evan Rosier spent many hours in the Forbidden Forest practicing the Unforgivable Curses on anything he could capture. While no one really cared what he did, his attitude that it made him better than his fellows wasn’t well received. Further conversation was curtailed when they saw the long white-blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy shimmering in the moonlight as he approached._

_“Well, you two certainly don’t know how to keep quiet.” Lucius’s grey eyes, seen as he walked into the light from the shop, flashed with anger. “I’m half-a-mind to go back to the Dark Lord and tell him you’re too young to become Death Eaters.”_

_The three young men, having completed their seventh-year had returned to London from Hogwarts only a fortnight previously. “Lucius, please,” Snape said softly as he stepped into the light, “Please take me.” He looked directly at the older man, ignoring his former classmates, “I know how to follow orders.”_

_Malfoy grinned broadly as he put a hand on Snape’s shoulder, “I didn’t know you were there my young friend.” Glaring at the other two, he raised an eyebrow, “You were so quiet.”_

_A hiss from Rosier wasn’t missed by Severus but he wasn’t going to have his opportunity to serve the Dark Lord be ruined by anyone. He’d dreamed of having this chance for the past two years and when he’d received the owl from Lucius a week before term ended arranging this meeting Severus could hardly contain himself. He’d told no one, of course but he'd spent hours thinking about how his life would be so much better in the service of the greatest wizard that ever lived. . . . ._

_. . . . .In his time at Hogwarts, Snape made no real friends. After his sorting he was greeted politely by Lucius, however being so much older, theirs was a distant relationship during school. In the middle of the night lying sleepless in his bed the eleven year-old Severus would stifle his tears of loneliness and think of Lily far above him in Gryffindor Tower. By the time he was twelve, his hunger for acceptance was being fed by his natural aptitude with Dark magic. He studied the Dark Arts so he'd be good at something admired by his fellow Slytherins._

_Starting in his third year, he hung around with a gang of other students, many of whom had Death Eater relatives. The young teen was smart enough to know he was wanted only because of his usefulness. He treasured his talks with Lily, even though his housemates ridiculed him for his friendship with the Gryffindor. In turn, she argued with him about his, in her words, 'creepy' associates._

_While Lord Voldemort's rise had started soon after Severus entered Hogwarts, it was during his fourth year that the power of the Dark Lord really began to be felt in both the Magical and Muggle worlds. As a half-blood in the house of pure-blood supporters of Lord Voldemort, Snape worked extra hard to enhance his proficiency in all magical subjects so he would fit in. He wanted no one to think him unworthy because of his Muggle father. After all, he'd had no control over his unfortunate parentage._

_By the time he sat his O.W.L.S. at the end of his fifth year, Severus was an expert in potions, transfiguration, charms, and non-verbal magic, in addition to the Dark Arts. He didn't understand Lily's loathing of dark magic. Her rejection had set him on the course that had led him to this alley. Lily had accused him of planning to join the Dark Lord. He hadn't been, yet when she'd said it, it planted a seed and soon after, alone with his thoughts, it became his goal. He thought she would find him impressive if he became a Death Eater._

_For the next two years he developed relationships – never true friendships – with like-minded individuals. He began his study of Occlumency and Legilimency, honed his dueling skills, and created numerous new spells. His proficiency with potions, however, was unsurpassed. He altered instructions and produced better results for existing brews, and developed new ones. He did all these things so that he could become the Dark Lord's most valued Death Eater. . . . . ._

_. . . . . Dropping his hand from Snape’s shoulder, Lucius observed the recruits standing before him. “As this initiation is planned for three, I suppose I’ll have to take all of you regardless of your qualifications. We’ll travel by Portkey,” he took a black sock out of his pocket, “to the backyard of a Muggle home. Once there, you will enter the house and kill the family. There is one of them for each of you.”_

_Snape heard a sharp intake of breath from Wilkes. Snape managed to control his own reaction to the task they were given and suppressed all audible sound. Rosier made a noise of satisfaction. Severus had spent three weeks imagining what the first thing he’d be asked to do once he became a Death Eater. He never imagined having to kill someone before he even took the Dark Mark. He was confident that he could do it despite having never cast the Avada Kedavra on anything larger than a mouse._

_“Once your target is dead, you will bring the body into the backyard where we’ll travel, again by Portkey, to the Dark Lord’s location.”_

_It was fascinating to Severus how Malfoy was more mature than he’d been when he’d known him as a prefect and older student at Hogwarts. His description of their task was very clinical as if he’d been describing the recipe for a potion rather than explaining how they were to murder three people. Snape hoped that soon he would have the same maturity and poise._

_“You’ll have thirty-minutes from the time we leave here until the return Portkey is activated. Make the most of your time. If you fail in this initiation you will not be joining the Dark Lord. There are no second chances. On the other hand, if you fail now rather than later, your life may be spared.” Lucius checked his watch. “We have about one minute before the Portkey activates.” He held the sock with his left hand and they all took hold of it. “Are there any questions?”_

_“We’re taking the bodies with us?” Wilkes asked quietly._

_“Yes,” Malfoy pushed up the left sleeve of his robes. “The blood of your offering is required as part of the ritual that burns the Dark Mark into your arm.”_

_Snape was staring at the skull and snake on Malfoy’s arm when the pull of the Portkey grabbed him in the navel. He was sure no one had seen him smiling at the sight of the brand he so coveted._

_The four men landed silently on grass and released their hold on the sock. The lawn was well manicured, and many types of flowers and other plants lined its edge. Severus noted that the yard was enclosed by a high wooden fence that blocked observation by the neighbors. It was clear this location had been selected with care to hide their activities._

_Moonlight was streaming down and cast them all with faint shadows. Lucius stepped back so he was hidden under a tree. Rosier strode forward to the door and cast_ "Alohomora" _and the door clicked open. Snape and Wilkes pulled their wands and hurried to catch up so they entered the kitchen together. Wilkes cast_ "Lumos" _and in his faint wand light he began exploring._

_“I thought there were only supposed to be three people,” Rosier whispered. They could hear laughter coming from down the hall. “It sounds like there's a whole crowd in there.”_

_It was obvious to Snape that since both his companions were pure-bloods, they’d never encountered Muggle technology. As a very young boy, he'd seen a television in his paternal grandparents' house. He remembered being fascinated by the moving pictures and sounds. He also remembered the beating his father had given him when, in front of his grandma, Severus had asked why the moving photographs his mother had of her parents didn't talk._

_The only other time he'd seen a television was at a party at Lily's in the summer between their first and second years. He thought he'd been careful to say nothing wrong, but always wondered why he'd never been invited to her house again. Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he said, “It’s a Muggle entertainment device you’re hearing.”_

_“How do you know?” Rosier whispered with a frown._

_“What’s this thing?” Wilkes asked softly as he held his wand in front of a tall, white rectangular box with two doors and two handles._

_“We don’t have time for a Muggle studies course,” Snape hissed. He didn’t want to show too much knowledge of Muggle things, nor explain how he knew about them. “We’ve got a job to do.” He started down the hall towards the sound and light coming from the other room. Rosier and Wilkes followed close on his heels._

_As they reached the doorway into the lighted room, Severus raised his wand and cast a non-verbal_ Muffliato _so they could speak without being heard. He studied the family they were about to kill and was both excited and nervous. He felt sensations that he’d ever experienced before as he scanned the room._

_A middle-aged man with brown hair and glasses sat in an armchair. An attractive black-haired woman of about the same age sat in a rocker next to him. They were holding hands across the chair arms, and were alternately smiling and laughing at the moving and talking pictures on the box – the television – in front of them. Across the room Severus saw a teenage boy sprawled on a couch, his long lanky legs extending over its end. He was holding a book open with one hand, his attention focused on the box. When he laughed, his light brown hair swayed around his face. Snape reflected that he wasn’t much younger than the three wizards watching him._

_“They won’t hear us now,” Snape stepped back against the wall between Wilkes and Rosier. They made sure they were out of sight of the three in the room._

_“I say we have a little fun before we kill them,” Rosier smirked. “We should_ Crucio _the lot of them.”_

_Being able to perform the_ Cruciatus _curse might impress the Dark Lord, Snape thought. “Yeah, I think we should,” he agreed eagerly, glancing at each of his companions in turn._

_“We don’t really have the time,” Wilkes pointed at his watch. “We only have twenty-five minutes left and if anything goes wrong…”_

_“Nothing will go wrong,” Rosier argued. “You’re scared.”_

_“I am not!” Wilkes shouted. He had the good sense to glance at the family to see if he’d been heard, but the muffling spell was working. That notwithstanding, he continued softy, “We need to each pick one and do it at the same time.”_

_“Wilkes is correct about the time,” Snape conceded. “Still we could cause a little terror by killing them separately.” Dark eyes gleaming, he gazed upon each person as he spoke, “We do the boy first so the parents watch him die. Then, we do the father who feels helpless to protect his family, and finally the mother who’s seen both of her men taken from her.”_

_Rosier raised an eyebrow and grinned, “You’re cruel Snape. I never knew you had it in you.”_

_There were a lot of things about Severus Snape that no one knew. He’d had to learn to keep things to himself early in his eighteen years of life in order to survive. The warm feeling that coursed through Severus at this acceptance was short lived when Wilkes again protested, “I have nothing against either the_ Cruciatus _or drawing out their agony, but I’m not going to lose my chance with the Dark Lord because we run out of time.” He stabbed a short finger at his watch to make his point. “I’m doing the mother.” Wilkes stepped away from the wall and raised his wand._

_“Hold it.” Snape put a hand on Wilkes wand arm. Waving his own wand he cast a silencing charm on the house. “Now it’s safe,” he said as he let go of Wilkes and looked at Rosier and shrugged. “He’s right; we have to do it together. I’ll take the boy.”_

_“Okay, then,” Rosier agreed sullenly. “Next time, we’d better be able to have some fun.”_

_The man saw the intruders and started to stand as three wands were raised and simultaneous killing curses were cast. No sound escaped the father’s lips as he fell into his chair, eyes open in death. The woman shrieked, and the boy twitched._

_Severus had seen a pale green light flow from the tip of his wand as he spoke the curse. It had always worked on insects and mice; evidently it hadn’t been strong enough to kill a human. The boy was sitting and shaking his head. It appeared he’d only been stunned. Wilkes’s curse hadn’t been effective either as the woman was on her feet now, shaking her husband and shouting ‘Sam, Sam, wake up Sam.’_

_“You two are useless,” Rosier growled. “You have to mean it to kill someone.” He waved his wand at the man’s dead body. “All my hours of practice in the forest paid off,” he cackled evilly._

_The terrified teenager stared at the wand pointed towards his chest. “Wha…what are you doing here,” he stammered. He attempted to get up but fell onto the couch, unable to stand. “Dad, Mum,” he croaked as he flicked tear filled eyes between his parents and Severus. “Don’t…don’t hurt me, please.” the boy whimpered._

_For a second, Severus flashed back to a time in his childhood. He was the crying boy who’d been beaten by his father. His mother lay on the floor with a broken nose and a bloody split lip. Severus knew he needed to draw on greater anger - his hatred of his Muggle father - in order to make the curse work on a person. According to the pure-blood rhetoric of Lord Voldemort, he was supposed to have enough hate of Muggles and Mudbloods to be able to fuel the killing curse. Why wasn’t it working?_

_With a wicked grin, Severus visualized the faces of James Potter and Sirius Black floating above the light brown hair of the boy in front of him. Severus raised his wand and cast_ “Avada Kedavra!” _The green light streaked from his wand and blasted the boy. The power of the curse raised him a few inches before he dropped dead on the couch._

_Severus retched and then retched again. Unable to stop himself, he turned his head away from the others and vomited. What was wrong with him? Why was he so sick? Though it was his first human kill, it was only a Muggle. It couldn't be the murder that was bothering him – it had to be the smell – the smell of death. He knew it happened; it had happened with the mice he’d killed. At the moment of death the bowels and bladder are evacuated, however the smell from the animals had been nothing like what was permeating the room. With a glance at Wilkes, Snape saw that the other had finally been able to drop the mother. Snape vomited again as the stench from the three dead Muggles assailed his nose._

_Rosier laughed loudly. “I always knew you were a weakling, Snape,” he sneered as he levitated the man’s body and started down the hall. Severus gritted his teeth and kept quiet. He vanished his mess, and then pointed his wand at the boy and cast_ "Mobilicorpus" _. Snape followed Rosier and Wilkes brought up the rear with the body of the woman._

_They emerged into the warm, sweet-smelling summer night. Severus looked up and breathed the fresh air in deeply. Next time he would be prepared. He wasn’t weak, he’d just been surprised. Severus cast non-verbal spells to stop the leaking of fluids and the smell from the body._

_“It’s about time,” Lucius taunted as he stepped away from the trees. “I thought I’d be returning to the Dark Lord alone. He took the Portkey sock from his pocket. “Grasp the right wrist of your sacrifice with your left hand and then put away your wands.”_

_The weight of the boy almost pulled Severus down as his levitation spell was released and the body dropped to the ground. The head lolled backwards and the limbs flopped limply. The young man he held was tall yet seemed even more childlike in death than he had in life._

_“Take hold of the Portkey.” When all had done so, Lucius took his own hand from the sock, and pulled his wand. He cast,_ “Incarcerous” _and Snape felt ropes wrap tightly around his left hand and wrist binding him to the boy's body. Holding his wand in his right hand, Lucius grasped his right wrist with his left hand and raised both arms skyward and cast,_ “Morsmordre” _._

_Severus couldn’t suppress a gasp as the brilliant green skull and serpent tongue of the Dark Mark appeared over the house. He’d read about it, of course but this was the first time he’d seen it._

_“If you’re found worthy of service to your lord and master, you’ll be allowed to produce his mark,” Lucius said reverently._

_It was the most beautiful thing Snape had ever seen. He stared up at it in awe and only reluctantly faced Lucius as he continued to speak._

_“You’ll be blindfolded…” When Malfoy’s wand tapped Wilkes on the forehead Severus saw a black cloth cover the other man’s eyes moments before his own head was tapped and all light disappeared. “…and then…”_

_Whatever Lucius said next was lost as the Portkey activated and they were pulled upwards at the navel. When Snape’s feet hit solid ground, he fell headfirst over the body tethered to his arm and landed sprawled on his back. It wasn’t a very dignified arrival but having no sight completely disoriented him. As he struggled to regain his feet, he felt sharp gravel cut into his hands and knees._

_“Don’t remove the blindfold!” a raspy, unfamiliar voice shouted. “You have not earned the privilege to gaze upon the Master.” Snape hadn’t touched his and before he could even wonder if Wilkes or Rosier were being reprimanded he heard the same voice cast,_ “Crucio” _and Rosier – he thought – shrieked and thudded to the ground._

_“Get on your feet!” the voice commanded. Severus felt around to determine the placement of the boy’s body and pushed himself up quickly. He wasn’t sure if the command had been for all of them, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He could almost stand straight by pulling slightly on the arm attached to his._

_“You will now carry your offering to the Dark Lord,” Lucius intoned silkily. “Follow me.”_

__How am I supposed to do that, _Snape puzzled,_ when I can’t see a thing? And am I supposed to drag this body? _Snape knew better than to reach for his wand to levitate it and didn’t think he could muster the concentration it would take to do it wandlessly. He turned his head from side to side, trying to locate from where Lucius’s voice came._

_“Well, why are you all standing there?” Lucius snapped. “Weren’t you serious when you told me you wished to serve the Dark Lord?”_

_“Maybe they need more encouragement,” the other man cackled and cast_ “Crucio!” __

_With a sharp intake of breath, Snape braced for the pain then was surprised when it didn’t come. Rosier shrieked again but there was no sound of him hitting the ground. Perhaps he’d never made it to his feet. A second shout of_ “Crucio!” _and this time Wilkes yelped and fell._

_Severus thought he’d escaped when the raspy voice cast_ “Crucio!” _a third time. Fire exploded in Snape’s bones and he screamed. The curse lasted only seconds, yet it felt like needles had pierced his skin, poked into his eyeballs, and been inserted under his fingernails. He’d experimented with the curse on animals, but this was the first time he’d experienced it. As he started to fall, he bent at the waist, extended both arms, and caught himself by bracing against the boy’s cold chest._

_Pulling himself up, Snape took two steps towards where he hoped Lucius was standing. While not overly heavy, Severus quickly realized he would never be able to drag the boy’s body through the gravel. Bending down he used his right hand to locate the boy’s head, torso, left arm, and the very long legs. Though awkward, Snape managed to put his left hand under the head and his right hand between the legs. He heaved with all his strength and finally pulled the body up onto his own shoulder. Snape staggered and almost fell. Once he had the body balanced he stood catching his breath, again trying to sense in which direction to walk. Lucius was making no sound but Severus thought he could see brightness – not really a light – in one location. He walked towards it, hoping it was where he needed to go._

_A hissing reached Snape’s ears seconds before a calm voice asked, “Severus Snape, why are you here?” The hissing continued and Snape felt something large glide between his feet._

_Severus stopped his slow advance, his mind racing._ The man speaking had to be the Dark Lord. This was it. There would be no second chance. What should I do? What should I say? _He tried to remember everything he’d learned; everything he’d heard Lucius say tonight. Snape dropped to his knees letting the body fall in front of him. He bowed his head and said reverently, “I come to serve you, my Lord.”_

_“And what do you bring me?” the Dark Lord asked slowly._

_“A Muggle, my Lord.” Snape held out both his arms, palms up, his left pulling the right arm of the boy with it. He heard the Dark Lord cast_ “Diffindo” _and the ropes binding him to the boy fell away. Snape still held the boy’s wrist in his hand. Inventing wildly, not knowing if he was correct, Snape placed the boy’s arm on the quiet chest, then put his own hands on his knees. “It is a most humble gift for one of your greatness. I beg your forgiveness that I do not bring you a better offering.” With a pang of fear at his laxity, Snape quickly added, “Master.”_

_“You have done well, Severus Snape. Look up; you will be granted the privilege of gazing upon your Master.”_

_Rising only slightly from his posture of obedience, Snape hoped he was facing in the correct direction. Suddenly the blindfold was removed and he found himself staring directly at Lord Voldemort. He was seated in a large wingback chair in front of a glowing fireplace. It was the only light in the room. “Master, you do me an honor I do not deserve.” Snape dropped his head again._

_“Look at me,” commanded the Dark Lord._

_Meeting the cold eyes Snape realized the Dark Lord was using Legilimency to examine his memories. Snape was startled but not scared. He’d done some experimenting with mind magic so while not an expert, he was familiar with the techniques._

_One eyebrow rose as the Dark Lord sneered, “You didn’t manage to kill it on your first try. Perhaps you had sympathy for the Muggle?”_

_“Oh, no, I…Master,”_ Almost forgot again, _Severus thought. “I...I” He was angry with himself for stammering. He should have been prepared for this. He took a deep breath. “It was my first time…with a human I mean…and I didn’t realize I needed…more anger, sir…my Lord.”_ If you’re not careful, Snape thought, you’re going to get yourself Crucioed again. __

_“It seems you have no stomach for killing,” the Dark Lord said coolly. “You were sick all over the floor.” The disgust in his voice was unmistakable._

_“Yes, my Lord,” Severus admitted quietly. Then realizing the double statements, he panicked and rushed to add, “Err…No my Lord.” Embarrassed, he stared at the floor and hoped the shame he felt was obvious in his voice. “It was the smell…it was unexpected. Animals never smelled that badly, sir.”_

_The laughter from Voldemort was so surprising, that Severus jerked his head up and stared open-mouthed. He didn’t know whether to look down, prostrate himself, or maintain his stance. He remained motionless waiting for whatever came next. With a rush of panic, he tried to remember if he’d said ‘my Lord’ or ‘Master’ and then remembered he’d said ‘sir’ as if he were still at Hogwarts. It was too late to correct his error now though he did close his mouth._

_“And you masked the smell from the body before coming here?” Voldemort was actually smiling and there was almost a twinkle in his eyes._

_“I…I did my Lord.” Deciding to go all or nothing Snape added, “And I stopped all the leaks too.”_

_“You did well for your first time, Severus Snape.” The Dark Lord reached down and stroked the face of the dead boy lying on the floor. “He’s such a nice, soft young one, too. It will be the first of many for you.” Sitting back in the chair, Lord Voldemort waved his hand, and Lucius appeared at his side. “I have examined your candidate, and found him worthy.”_

_“Thank you, my Lord. I am humbled that you are pleased with him.” Lucius bowed and then turned to Snape with a hint of a smile on his lips. “Remove your wand.”_

_Severus’s hands were shaking and he almost dropped the slender piece of wood that suddenly seemed slippery. Surely now that he’d come this far, he wasn’t going to panic and fail._

_“Draw blood from your sacrifice,” Lucius commanded._

_Frowning briefly, Snape concentrated on how best to do this. With no beating heart, blood wouldn’t flow from arteries so he would have to collect it from a pooled area. He conjured a small bowl and then cast_ “Sectumsempra” _. A large gash opened immediately below the boy’s ribs. Snape drew about a quarter cup of blood into the bowl directly from the aorta. He looked up at Lucius and the brief nod acknowledged that it was enough._

_“What spell did you use?” The puzzlement in the Dark Lord’s voice was obvious._

_“It was_ Sectumsempra, _Master,” Snape responded. At the raised eyebrow of Voldemort, Snape explained, “I developed it during my sixth-year at Hogwarts…” Snape almost sneered then decided a neutral expression was safer, “…for use on enemies. It cuts deeper and more severely than_ Diffindo _or any other severing charm, my Lord.”_

_“You were correct Lucius,” Voldemort stroked his chin in delight. “This one will be a worthwhile asset.”_

_“Yes, Master,” Lucius agreed, “he was very talented even as a child. He’s skilled at potions also.”_

_“You will be rewarded, Lucius, for bringing me such a useful tool,” the Dark Lord smiled._

_“My reward is to be able to serve you, my Lord,” the blonde Death Eater responded with a tip of the head._

_Severus was sure only he saw the satisfied grin on Malfoy’s face. He wondered how much power and influence the induction of three new Death Eaters brought to Lucius. Snape looked forward to the time when he’d be able to bring new recruits to the Dark Lord._

_“It is time,” the Dark Lord stood and strode across the room, his dark robes swishing behind him. Lucius motioned at Snape to come as Lucius hurried after their master. With butterflies he didn’t expect, Snape pushed himself to his feet and followed, tucking his wand away quickly and carrying the bowl of blood with both hands so as to not spill it. He ignored the dead boy on the floor._

_The three men entered a small room lit by several torches hung from the dark colored walls. There were no furnishings or windows, only a stone about two feet high and a foot square located in the middle of the floor. There was a cradle carved into its top about five inches wide. Something dark coated its surface. When Lucius closed the door behind them, all sound was extinguished. Snape wondered if there was a silencing charm in place, or if the room was naturally soundproofed. It seemed to be made of the same kind of stone as the ‘alter’ in its middle._

_“Kneel,” Voldemort commanded._

_As Severus dropped to the cold floor, he was a bit surprised to see that Lucius also fell to his knees near the stone. Snape followed the older man’s lead and positioned himself directly across from him on the opposite side of the ‘alter’. He wondered why he kept thinking of the object in that way. Now that he could see the stone was covered with dried blood he glanced at the bowl he held and understood._

_Lucius took the bowl and set it down beside himself. He then placed Snape’s left arm, palm up, into the cradle in the stone with the hand extended just beyond the edge. Lucius grasped Snape’s wrist, pushed down, and held on tightly._

_It felt like Lucius was trying to cut off all circulation in his arm. Severus met the cold grey eyes of his former housemate but saw nothing there._

_“Severus Snape,” the Dark Lord intoned, “do you swear obedience to your Lord and Master?”_

_Wondering where he should look, Snape decided to continue to face Lucius. “I do, my Lord.”_

_The Dark Lord pointed his wand at Severus’s left arm immediately below the elbow and with a quick flick sliced an opening about six inches long. Bright red blood welled out of the cut. Unprepared for the onslaught, Snape let out a small gasp and was pleased he managed to not cry out. He now understood why Lucius had such a firm grip on his wrist. Lucius poured about a teaspoon of blood from the bowl into the cut._

_“Do you promise to carry out all orders without question?”_

_“I do, my Lord.”_

_Prepared this time, Snape didn’t react as the Dark Lord pushed the tip of his wand into the top end of the slit in Snape’s arm. As a skull was carved into his skin, Lucius added more of the boy’s blood. The pain was excruciating yet Severus was determined to show no reaction. The comingled blood ran into the stone cradle._

_“Will you gladly give your life for your Master?”_

_Deciding to be a bit daring with his answer, Snape said earnestly, “If my sacrifice will aid your rise to power, my Lord, then I freely give my life to you. Do with me what you will.”_

_The Dark Lord pressed his wand into the skull and a snake crawled out of its mouth. Severus was now very glad Lucius was holding his wrist so tightly. Snape knew he’d never have been able to hold still as the intricate design was being cut into his arm. He watched Lucius pour more of the boy's blood into the bleeding incision._

_“Severus Snape, are you worthy of the title of Death Eater?”_

__Okay, now what, _thought Snape._ What should I say? _“I am, Master,” he’d decided in a split second to be bold rather than submissive. "I'm honored to have been chosen."_

_When the wand tip pushed into the end of the slit nearest his wrist, a serpent’s tail curled up his arm making S-shaped slashes until it connected with the skull. Blood ran off both sides of Snape’s arm as Lucius emptied the last of the sacrificial blood into the cuts. Lucius released Snape’s wrist abruptly and stood._

_Severus felt like he was going to pass out. Without the tension from Lucius’s grip, the brand hurt a hundred times worse than it had seconds before. His arm was on fire and he couldn’t catch his breath. He was panting with the effort to keep from crying out and tears stung his eyes. Snape’s hope that he wouldn’t be asked to get to his feet any time soon was dashed almost immediately._

_“Stand before your Lord and Master,” Voldemort commanded._

_Using only his right hand, Snape pushed off from the stone that was sticky with the spilled blood. He kept his head down for a few seconds to let a wave of dizziness pass, and then stood shaking in front of the Dark Lord. Snape’s left arm hung limply at his side, the mixture of his own and the boy’s blood dripping off his fingertips. As Lucius moved into place behind Snape, he pondered that that didn’t bode well for what was going to happen next._

_“You have willingly taken the permanent Mark of servitude to Lord Voldemort. You have offered up a sacrifice to your Master and will always carry his blood with you. You are now a Death Eater forever.” The Dark Lord grasped Snape’s left forearm tightly and dug his sharp fingernails into the tender skin. With the Dark Lord’s left hand completely covering the new Dark Mark he waved his wand over the joining. A flash of red light escaped as flame seared the flesh of Snape’s arm instantly cauterizing the wounds. Severus shrieked and just as he passed out, he felt Lucius catch him under the arms._

_When he awoke, Severus had no idea how long he’d been out. He was sprawled on the floor in a bare room. Wilkes was out cold next to him. Rosier was nowhere in sight. Severus sat up and stroked the Death Eater mask that lay beside him. He put it on briefly, and then placed it back on the floor. He traced the lines of his new Dark Mark, thrilled by the tingle he felt at his gentle touch._

_Joy coursed through him and he smiled. At long last he’d done something worthwhile. After being rejected his whole life – by his father, by the children in his neighborhood, by his housemates, by Lily, by everyone except his mother, he had finally been accepted and belonged to something big, powerful, and impressive. He fit in and wouldn't be lonely all the time. Today was the start of great things to …_


	6. Respected

Severus was startled out of his memory by the appearance on his right side of a young, short, round-faced witch with brown eyes and brown hair that bounced as she walked. He knew she was a colleague from Hogwarts however dressed as she was in Muggle clothes it took him a few seconds to recognize her as the Muggle Studies professor. She was keeping pace with him and looking at him with a cheery expression. Apparently she’d spoken but he hadn’t heard. “Hmmm, sorry I was deep in thought. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d been on an errand also,” said Charity Burbage.

“Yes, yes I have,” Snape responded, having no desire to elaborate. This was her second year at Hogwarts and while Snape didn’t go out of his way to keep company with her, Charity was pleasant enough. She smiled at him no matter his mood or how much he scowled. She always seemed to be happy and tried to make everyone feel like they were important to her.

“Because my specialty is Muggles, Poppy sent me to get some sweets for our youngest Muggle-born students. With everything that happened after the tournament, some of them are scared and want to go home. Dumbledore feels it will be safer if they all go together on the train at the end of term. Their parents can’t exactly Apparate here to take them away. Poppy and I are trying to make their last few days at school easier by getting them something that reminds them of home.” Holding up a large shopping bag, she continued. “I went to a Muggle village to get candies and biscuits hoping it will distract them for these last few days.”

Since the witch walking alongside him seemed perfectly willing to prattle on, Snape only had to nod and grunt occasionally to keep her talking. While the chatter was tiring, he was relieved that he didn’t have to answer questions about where he’d been.

“Dumbledore hasn’t told us much. He addressed the students yesterday morning at breakfast and told everybody to leave Harry Potter alone; to not ask him questions about…about that night.” Charity paused for a moment, noticeably troubled. “The headmaster also held a brief staff meeting beforehand and told us that Professor Moody hadn’t really been Moody all year long. You can imagine the shock everyone felt. To think that we’d been working with a Death Eater was frightening. A Death Eater!” she exclaimed and shook her head. “They are so prejudiced with their views on race supremacy and blood purity. They have no conscience and show no compassion or empathy for others. Death Eaters torture, and kill and they…they like it!”

Severus realized he was trying to rub his Dark Mark but his right arm, though not painful, wouldn’t move. He wondered how he would describe Malfoy, or Avery, or Macnair; he wondered how Burbage would describe her colleague, Severus Snape; he wondered how he would describe himself. “Death Eaters are…repulsive,” he said quietly without facing her. "The group dynamic reinforces an attitude that committing atrocities and engaging in evil acts are acceptable behaviors."

Watching him she continued. “I simply don’t understand how anyone could join You-Know-Who. For that matter, I don’t understand how anyone could even stand to be in his presence.”

“Nor do I,” he agreed suppressing a sigh.

“The headmaster says he’s waiting on word from outside Hogwarts – a source – well, he didn’t actually say from where he’s expecting information. I assumed it was from someone outside who’ll have details. Anyway, he said he’s waiting until he knows what happened and then he’ll explain it and talk to the students before they leave for home.”

_No,_ Severus thought to himself, _Dumbledore would not tell you where he gets his information._ Still, Snape was wise enough to know that rumors and half-truths were already swirling among staff and students. At least the witch’s babbling had given him enough information to figure out that he’d been gone between thirty-four and thirty-six hours.

“Do you know what really happened to Cedric Diggory? You and Minerva went off with Dumbledore.”

Somewhat surprised at her forwardness, Snape glared at her as he responded slowly and deliberately, “It’s for the headmaster to say.”

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s just the students are getting scared and…”

Severus stopped listening as he reflected that apparently his appearance didn’t cause questions and he’d be able to pass unnoticed by any student or staff member he encountered. He was silent as they continued on to the castle.

In the Entrance Hall, Charity said good-bye and headed towards the hospital wing. Severus debated whether to head down to his chambers in the dungeons, or up to the headmaster’s office. As he stood silently deliberating, four first-year Hufflepuff girls came in the door and ran into his back. He rounded on them and glared. With a shriek they ran into the Great Hall where lunch was just starting.

Despite wanting nothing other than to be alone, rest, heal, and eat – glancing into the Great Hall with its tables covered in food, it occurred to him that he’d not had eaten in almost two days – Severus started the long walk up to the seventh floor. At the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, Snape hadn't yet spoken the password when the headmaster came out of the doorway.

“Severus!” he exclaimed, grinning broadly. “Oh, Severus, I’d almost given up hope.” Dumbledore stepped inside and motioned for the younger man to follow. As they rode the moving spiral staircase that carried them upward, Dumbledore continued, “When you didn’t return yesterday I was afraid, so very afraid that I’d sent you to your death.”

“Obviously not,” Snape replied dryly. He followed the headmaster into his office and almost made it to a chair before his knees gave way. His totally useless right arm, drawn into a ‘C’ shape, swung away from his body pulling him down as he began to collapse. Snape bit off the scream that escaped his lips as Dumbledore grabbed his right arm and gently lowered him onto the seat. The pain masking charm had worn off and it felt like nails were being pounded into his broken arm from hand to shoulder.

“What did he do to you?” Dumbledore asked angrily as he stood in front of his spy.

There were beads of sweat on Snape’s deathly pale face and his breath was rapid and shallow. “Nothing that wasn’t expected,” Snape gasped. He shook as he removed his wand with his left hand. If he could stop the pain again he’d be able to get through this interview and then heal himself properly.

“Somehow, I think this…” With gentle fingers, Dumbledore touched Snape’s right hand, “…is more than was expected.” He searched the stoic dark eyes then grasped the hand in which Severus held his wand, stilling the shakes. “Let me.”

Severus had learned to be strong and self-reliant at a very young age. It was hard for him to accept help from another, even Albus Dumbledore, the wizard who had shown him more kindness and respect than any other person ever had; more than Severus thought he deserved. He put away his wand.

Still touching Snape’s right hand, Dumbledore removed his own wand and cast the pain masking charm and felt Severus relax. Running his wand up and down the full length of the arm several times, Dumbledore felt the misshapen bones, drawn ligaments and contracted muscles. “This is bad. How long has it been since it was broken?”

The pain was gone and now all Severus cared to do was to make his report and leave. “Really Headmaster, I can fix it later.” There was no way he was going to tell Dumbledore the complete extent of what had been done to him.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Dumbledore said softly. For several seconds the two men contemplated each other in silence. “Let’s get this cloak off you so we can see what needs to be done.” As he helped the reluctant man to his feet, he asked, “Do you think he accepted you back; that he trusts you again?”

"Accepted, yes; trusted, somewhat, though I think not completely," Snape said. "The Dark Lord has been attended by Pettigrew since shortly after he ran away from Hogwarts last summer. The little rat observed me for years and was able to give Voldemort a detailed account of my actions. The Dark Lord knows I helped you against Quirrell and tried to capture Black instead assisting his escape."

"Tom had the perfect spy here," Dumbledore shook his head, "and I had no idea." With a sly grin, he added, "Peter would also have reported your contempt for Harry and that can only help you in the eyes of Voldemort."

"That is true, Headmaster," Severus snorted. "The Dark Lord doesn't know the real reason I stayed in your employ. He's positive that I'm cowardly and will follow whichever wizard I think is the stronger. During and after my trial you protected me so I stayed at Hogwarts. Now that the Dark Lord is back and undoubtedly believes he's the most powerful, my return to his side was expected."

"Something you're definitely not, my dear friend, is a coward." Standing face-to-face, Dumbledore gently grasped the front of Snape's cloak with both hands lifting each side simultaneously up and away from his shoulders.

Momentarily distracted at being called friend, Severus didn't respond for several seconds. “No I'm not but it is useful that the Dark Lord thinks I am." Snape tried unsuccessfully to suppress a shudder as he allowed the headmaster to remove the garment. It had suddenly occurred to him that in order to be fully trusted he might be asked to kill Dumbledore. Fortunately it was likely that Dumbledore would think Snape's physical reaction had been from after effects of the curses he'd endured. “The Dark Lord read me multiple times. If he wasn’t sure of my allegiance after that,” Severus sneered, “he’d have to doubt his own Legilimency abilities.”

“Not something Tom is likely to do,” Dumbledore chuckled as he observed Snape's trembling body.

When both men were again seated, Snape gave the headmaster an abbreviated version of his welcome back to the Dark Lord, Voldemort’s current location, what he’d learned about the Death Eaters who’d responded to the summons, and his, Snape’s, plan for the newspaper smear campaign.

“You’ve done very well, Severus. I hadn’t thought of using the _Daily Prophet_ to discredit Harry and me. Fudge or Voldemort would have done it eventually, yet this way, it protects Harry’s life immediately and it won’t really hurt the Order that much.” Dumbledore sighed. “Of course, it will cause Harry quite a bit of emotional pain, but it can’t be helped.” With a look of grim determination, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “You’ve avoided my question. What happened to you?”

“This,” Snape gestured with his left hand towards his right, “really was an accident.”

“Accident?” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, it was. I fell. Well actually,” a brief grimace crossed his face, “I was dropped about six feet, and it broke when it bent under me.” Noting the skepticism reflected in the other’s face, Snape continued, “The Dark Lord was pleased that I’d been injured. He said ‘pain makes you strong’.”

“And kindness and compassion make you stronger,” Dumbledore snapped.

_My two masters are so different,_ Severus reflected. “By the time I had a chance to do something with the arm, it had been several hours since the break and it was already drawn.” He glanced at the useless limb. “I imagine I’ll need to remove all the bones and regrow them in order to heal it.”

“Pull up your sleeve please,” Dumbledore asked, “and we’ll see if we can do something less painful.”

“Really, the pain is nothing,” Severus protested. He grabbed onto his right wrist holding his sleeve down, dread painted on his face.

“I know it’s nothing compared to what you’ve already endured for me,” Dumbledore said with sadness. “Nor what you’ll have to endure for me in the future.” Tears glistened in the kindly blue eyes. “If I can cause you less pain today, however, I’m going to do it." The sigh that escaped from the independent man’s lips wasn’t lost on Dumbledore as he tenderly pushed up the robe and began pulling, probing and prodding the arm in earnest.

Although Snape had not been forthcoming about the extent of his torture as usual the headmaster had guessed. As he watched Dumbledore work, Severus thought about how his life had turned out. Normally he didn't dwell on the past, but after so many years without conflict the events of the past couple of days seemed to have brought all the old thoughts to mind. He had never once considered being a teacher – he didn’t have the personality or demeanor for nurturing youngsters. Yet both of his masters had directed him into that path for their own reasons. He had had to abandon his dreams in order to do what he was told.

Admittedly, the job at Hogwarts under Dumbledore’s protection had kept Snape out of prison. It wasn’t a bad life, though it certainly wasn’t what he would have chosen. During his fifth year career consultation Professor Slughorn had encouraged Severus to pursue research. He hoped that when the Dark Lord was vanquished, he would have a chance to devise helpful potions and spells like he’d developed Dark ones in his youth.

“Potions,” Snape said with a start as he awoke. He felt Dumbledore’s hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, I dozed off for a bit.”

“There’s no reason for you to apologize.” Dumbledore studied Snape. “You’re exhausted and I’d hazard a guess that you’ve not eaten since you left here.”

The expression on the headmaster’s face allowed no deception. Severus knew Dumbledore, while as skilled in Legilimency as the Dark Lord, would never force his way into another’s mind to get answers. Of course he usually didn’t need to as his natural perceptions worked very well. “You are correct, Headmaster,” Snape answered softly.

“And how many times did he hit you with the Cruciatus Curse or something else that you didn’t tell me about?” At the stricken appearance of Snape’s face, Dumbledore smiled and raised his hand to forestall an answer he knew the other didn’t wish to give. “I’ll send to the kitchens and get you some soup.”

As the headmaster turned, Snape said hesitantly, “There is a selection of potions that I prepared before I left; restoratives that I knew I’d need after….” Dumbledore nodded, and Severus was grateful that he didn’t have to continue; that Dumbledore understood his need for privacy.

“I'll get them from your chambers." Dumbledore was saddened that after all these years, Severus still didn't think he deserved help or friendship. "Then we’ll discuss how best to heal your arm.”

While the headmaster was gone, Snape remembered the conversation he’d had on a cold, windy, dark, and forlorn hilltop almost fifteen years ago. Snape had asked for Lily’s life that night and had promised to give Dumbledore anything in return. It was the start of a relationship built upon mutual need and tolerance. That tolerance was the closest thing Severus had ever had to true friendship. He again wondered whether to tell Dumbledore that the Dark Lord had tasked him with a murder but decided he couldn’t face saying anything now. He didn’t want to risk what little acceptance he had with the headmaster – he didn't know Severus was already a murderer. Snape wondered if even that toleration would be lost if the headmaster knew. What would he think if Severus killed again? He snapped out of his reverie when the headmaster backed into the office.

Reaching behind himself, Dumbledore released a bag that made clinking sounds as it floated in mid-air. He blocked the doorway with his whole body. “No, no, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank-you, Dobby.” After he took the tray from the house-elf, Dumbledore closed the office door and locked it. He conjured a low table in front of Snape and placed the tray on it. “Now eat,” Dumbledore commanded with a smile.

The freshly baked bread smelled wonderful, and the hot chicken noodle soup steamed with an aroma like ambrosia. Severus spooned the food into his mouth the best he could with the ‘wrong’ hand. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He was glad to note that Dumbledore had brought hot tea rather than cold pumpkin juice. He needed the warmth.

Taking his seat in front of Snape, Dumbledore grabbed the drifting bag and began pulling potion vials from it, opening and arranging them on the table as he spoke. “If your arm had been healed immediately, I would agree that you or I could fix it. The breaks, despite involving all three major bones, are clean. However the delay and resultant contraction of the ligaments and muscles makes it difficult to correct. I won't let you to be crippled for life because of…”

“That monster,” spat Snape.

Surprised at the uncharacteristic vehemence towards Voldemort, Dumbledore paused. He'd meant to say, 'because of me'. Instead he responded, “Yes…yes he is.”

"Pettigrew has told the Dark Lord – in great detail – about my trial and your defense of me. I think I diffused his distrust when I acted surprised and stroked his ego. He believed my story that I joined you on his orders and that I tricked you into trusting me. He has to always think he's the smartest wizard alive."

"It doesn't help that you are the consummate actor, Severus," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "That's what makes you such a great spy."

"Indeed," Severus agreed dryly. _And that,_ he thought not for the first time, _is the only reason you've kept me around all these years. I'm simply a tool to be used by you exactly as I am to the Dark Lord._ After swallowing some of the soup, Severus said softly. "It became very clear this morning that as you've always said the Dark Lord doesn't understand love." Placing his spoon in the bowl, he picked up a roll, concentrating on it to keep from facing his mentor. "He could never imagine that I came to you on my own; that I came to you in order to save Lily." As Snape tried to open the roll with one hand, all he succeeded in doing was crushing the soft bread.

"May I?" Dumbledore held out his hand, palm up.

Meeting the other's caring expression – so different from the Dark Lord's – Snape suppressed a sigh. Frustrated that he was dependent upon another he placed the roll in the headmaster's hand. "You were disgusted with me, and rightfully so, when I didn't care about saving James and the baby." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't know what made you believe me…believe in me."

Dumbledore put the now divided bread on the plate. "You already said it…love…I believe in the power of love. You were young, very selfish, and foolish, but you were in love. You'd made a mistake by becoming a Death Eater though you hadn't realized it yet. You could have gone either way at that moment." Sitting back, the headmaster crossed his arms over his chest and remembered another young man. "Maybe I was arrogant to think that I could redeem you; pull you back to the side of good. I had, after all, failed in my attempts to teach Tom the benefits of the power of love. I wanted to believe your love of Lily was enough to turn you away from evil."

"It was," Severus responded adamantly, pausing with the tea cup half-way to his mouth. "It did," he added before taking a drink.

"You share that with Harry." Dumbledore chuckled as Snape spluttered, choked and spewed tea across the table. As the other man coughed and tried to regain his power of speech, Dumbledore added, "Don't act so surprised. It was Lily's love that protected Harry as a baby, and it is his ability to love that is Harry's greatest power over Voldemort."

"You dare compare me with that…that…brat!" Severus exclaimed as he banged the cup onto the table sloshing out yet more tea.

"Yes, Severus, I do." Dumbledore waved his hand and wordlessly vanished the mess. "In many ways you are very different, yet in some, you two are a lot alike. You both have the capacity for love and friendship, something Tom never had or for that matter, ever wanted."

Snape glared at the old man. _That can't be true, is it?_ Severus wondered. _No, I'm nothing like Potter…_ "I know it's my fault the boy is an orphan." Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and first finger of his left hand. "Lily…both his parents would be alive if I hadn't reported the prophecy to the Dark Lord."

"You can't know that," Dumbledore asserted firmly. Snape's eyes snapped open but before he could protest, Dumbledore continued.

"Voldemort had been gaining power for years and James and Lily were committed to the fight to stop him. They could have been killed any number of ways without your involvement." Standing, Dumbledore paced the length of the small room between each sentence. "Things could have gotten much worse. You, my dear friend, played a large part in stopping him. Because he believed in the prophecy – the prophecy you passed to him – his reign of terror ended that night. If he hadn't been disembodied, which brought the war to an end, how many more would have been tortured and killed? If he hadn't disappeared, is it possible the dark forces would have prevailed? What would the world be like if he had won? Would he have gained the upper hand and taken over the Ministry…" Dumbledore stopped in front of Snape, "or even Hogwarts?"

All color drained from Snape's face as he stared up at the headmaster. "You're saying Lily had to die to end the war?"

"Not at all – I'm saying we can't know what would have happened. Where would you be if the Potters hadn't been targeted?" Dumbledore saw the anguish and grief mirrored in the other's face. "Would you have continued in the service of Voldemort? Or would there have been another inducement that would have caused you to change sides?"

For several seconds Severus didn't speak as he studied the man who had undeniably saved his life. "I would like to think I would eventually have seen the truth of what he is but…" He turned away and whispered, "I don't know if that would have happened."

"Oh, I think it would have." Dumbledore waited for Severus to face him. "I told you earlier this year that perhaps we sort too soon. You have the bravery of a…"

"Don't insult me by calling me a Gryffindor, Old Man!" Snape glared at Dumbledore. "I'd rather think I would have seen that you were the more powerful wizard and defected in order to be on the winning side. We Slytherins do have a rather strong sense of self-preservation."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "or perhaps your sense of right and wrong would have turned you away from his violence. After all, it is our choices that show what we truly are; our choices determine our character and personality. You chose to join the side of good; no one forced you to do so. You act like an unemotional, unfeeling prickly bastard." Dumbledore saw Snape's eyebrows rise, "I know differently. I've seen another side of you."

"You think you know so much about me," Snape growled, "but you don't! I have…" He stared into the corner of the room and took several deep breaths. He'd almost blurted out the one secret he'd never told Dumbledore. _Maybe now is time._ He turned back as he felt Dumbledore's hand close gently over his Dark Mark. Severus resisted his impulse to pull away.

"I know that as a child, you received very little love from an abusive father and an abused mother," Dumbledore said softly. "Other than Lily you had no friends before you came to Hogwarts. Once here you tried to fit in with your Slytherin housemates but you were kept out of their pure-blood cliques." A pained expression flitted across Dumbledore's face. "Then you were terrorized by Sirius and James and no one, not staff or student, helped you so of course you felt isolated and alone, ready to join 'something great'."

"What do you know about it?" Snape jerked his arm out of the other's grasp. Lily had tried to stand up for him and he'd pushed her away. "I joined him because I believed the Dark Lord was going to make things better."

"Did you?" Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. Severus had been a vulnerable and insecure teen – impressionable and lacking confidence in social situations. "Or did you simply crave membership in something big and powerful, something impressive?"

_Why is it that Dumbledore seems to know what I was thinking about earlier?_ Snape wondered. He needed to get away from this inquisition. He didn't want to discuss his motivations – he didn't want to tell Dumbledore that he'd planned to impress Lily by becoming a Death Eater. "Are we done, Headmaster?" Snape put the spoon in the bowel and sat back from his unfinished meal.

Ignoring the question, Dumbledore continued. "You have the family you always craved here at Hogwarts. Even though you do your best to shut everyone out, and avoid social situations, I and the rest of the staff respect you and care about you." Dumbledore smiled. "I testified to it many years ago – you are not a Death Eater who takes pleasure in torture and murder. Regardless of what you might have done in the past, you're not that man any longer, Severus."

"No, I'm not. When I came to you that night, if it was someone I didn't like," Snape focused on the corner of the room to avoid Dumbledore's gaze, "or someone I didn't know who died – who was murdered – it didn't bother me." He faced his mentor, "You were correct before; given it to do over; I never would have become a Death Eater."

"I know." They sat in silence for several seconds. Noticing that the soup and tea had gone cold, Dumbledore pointed his wand and reheated them. "Please eat. You need your strength." A few seconds passed filled only with the clicking of the spoon against the bowl. “We’re going to have to get Madam Pomfrey to heal your arm. She’s the only one at Hogwarts with the skill to do it properly.”

“No, you can’t!” Snape objected. “How would you explain how I was injured? How would you explain why I didn’t heal it immediately? She’ll be able to detect the lingering magic from the various curses that were used on me.” He flicked his left arm. “She doesn’t know what I was…what I am. We can’t compromise my usefulness to the Order no matter the consequences to me.”

“Severus, she does know.” At the startled look on the other’s face, Dumbledore continued, “Don’t you remember that she was in the room when you showed your Dark Mark to Cornelius?”

Disconcerted, Snape confessed, “I’d forgotten. It seems like that night was a lifetime ago.”

“For you and Harry, both of whom faced Lord Voldemort on the night of his re-embodiment and were tortured by him, it is not surprising that your minds block the memories of the past few days.”

Sipping his tea to give himself time to think, Snape pondered this startling similarity between himself and Potter. It was true that they’d shared experiences few on the good side ever lived to tell about. He’d never admit to the boy, however, that he understood anything about how he felt.

“Poppy doesn’t know that I sent you on an errand. I specifically had her leave before revealing Sirius’s identity and dispatching you both. She has no reason to suspect you’re part of the Order.”

“No,” Snape said dejectedly thinking about Charity’s reaction to working with the fake Moody, “she’ll just know I’m a Death Eater that disappeared for most of two days and came back cursed and injured.”

“She saw your Mark so she knows you were a Death Eater. That fact has no bearing on whether she heals you.” Pointing at the soup bowl, Dumbledore smiled, “Eat.” After Severus picked up his spoon Dumbledore declared, “Poppy will never violate the privacy of a patient no matter whom or what he is. It’s part of the Healer’s creed. Your background will stay with her.”

Between bites of bread Severus was selecting and drinking from the various potion vials and ladling in the soup. The restoratives and the food were making him stronger and he almost felt normal.

Dumbledore saw that a little color had been restored to Snape’s sallow face. “You left then came back. It’s ambiguous. If you left to join Voldemort, why did you return to Hogwarts? If you didn’t go to Voldemort, why did you disappear? Were you perhaps spying on him for us? If you are spying on us for Voldemort, and are in his good graces, why did you come back tortured and injured?”

Drinking the last of his tea, and the last of the appropriate potions, Snape started to cover and place a potion vial into the bag, but stopped when Dumbledore took it from him. “Your reasoning is sound, as usual. The ambiguity is better for my cover in both camps.” Severus sighed. “As much as I dread having to ask for help, it really is best that Madam Pomfrey sees me like this. Would you ask her to come to my chambers, please? I’d rather not face students.” He didn’t add his real reason; that he didn’t care to see Potter. His thought that the headmaster likely knew this was instantly confirmed.

“That would be best as I believe Harry is still in the hospital wing." The headmaster's blue eyes twinkled. "And I'm sure both of you would prefer to recuperate in private.”

Severus stood and picked up his cloak. As he tried to pull it into place with one hand as he had before, Dumbledore rushed to help. He made sure the garment completely covered Snape’s misshapen arm. "Thank-you, Headmaster.” Severus wasn't surprised that the Dark Lord had watched his struggles while Dumbledore helped; their methods of…persuasion…were very different. While one used kindness, and the other cruelty, Severus held no illusions that he was anything other than a means to an end for them both.

As the younger man started to leave, Dumbledore placed a hand lightly on Snape’s left arm causing him to turn back. Dumbledore held Snape’s gaze for a few seconds and then blinked quickly to clear his vision. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done and all you’re willing to do. You have, by far, the hardest job of anyone opposing Voldemort. Many wizards and witches act heroically when placed in a tight spot." When Snape started to speak, Dumbledore waved him off and continued. "You on the other hand, have consciously chosen to take on a very dangerous role. There will probably be a time when you’re viewed as a traitor by the very people you’re risking your life to save.” He squeezed Snape’s shoulder gently and whispered, “Thank-you just isn’t enough.”

“It is my honor to serve you, Headmaster.” It occurred to Snape as he said those words that, this time, he meant them. He bowed his head briefly, not in subservience but with appreciation, and left the office. Being Saturday there were few students in the halls. Those he did meet were subdued and greeted him respectfully, if at all. They probably wondered why he didn't scowl or glare; they didn't know he simply didn't have the energy. It was taking all his concentration to stay upright.

Walking down staircase after staircase making his way to the dungeons, Severus thought about what Dumbledore had said. _He's right,_ Snape thought, _no one forced me to change sides although I'm not so sure I did it because I chose to 'join the side of good'._ Snape was opposing the Dark Lord for his own – some might say selfish – reasons. He'd made the biggest mistake of his life when he'd taken the Dark Mark. That single action had cost him all possibility of a normal life. Severus lived every moment of every day with the horrors he’d caused knowing there could never be forgiveness, only perhaps repentance. He had no illusions about the likelihood of his long term survival; he only hoped to live long enough to make a difference in the fight against Lord Voldemort.


	7. Reliving

It was the last class on the last day of the school year and it was the fourth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors. Snape had no desire to face this most contentious group of students – he wanted to rest. He would have liked to skip the session but of course that was not possible. His plan had been to have the students write out the correct answers to the questions they’d gotten wrong on the final exams they’d sat the previous week. For most of them, it would have taken the whole double period.

As he entered the room and took his place at the front, Snape was surprised to see Potter sitting at a table in the back between Weasley and Granger. He’d only had glimpses of the boy in the week since they’d both returned from their encounters with the Dark Lord. Due to those events the headmaster had excused Potter from the remainder of his classes. The staff had been given instructions that if he chose to attend he was not to be overworked. Upon seeing Potter, Snape’s lesson plan changed instantly.

“Today we’ll be discussing a potion that you’ll learn to make next year.” The groan from most of the class was expected. Only the insufferable Granger girl had the lack of sense to be upset. He scowled at each table in turn until the room fell silent. “This potion, along with many others in the same category, is a restoratives used to counteract the effects of some of the most destructive curses that a witch or wizard may encounter.”

“Mr. Malfoy, what is an example of a destructive curse?” Snape asked.

The startled expression on the blonde’s face as he quickly stopped chatting with Crabbe made it clear Malfoy hadn’t expected to have to do any work on his last day. Looking pointedly at Potter, Malfoy smirked, “Avada Kedavra.”

With a raised eyebrow Snape commented, “The killing curse is certainly destructive though for most people,” Snape caught Potter’s eye briefly before the boy looked down, “a restorative potion would not help if you’re hit with the Avada Kedavra.” Snape felt satisfaction as he noted all the Slytherins and most of the Gryffindors were now staring at Potter. “Mr. Thomas, what is a destructive curse that isn’t fatal?”

Struck dumb with fear, Dean turned towards Hermione for an answer.

Snape saw the girl mouthing words. “Granger, stop prompting!” She snapped her mouth shut and faced front. “You won’t always have Miss Granger to give you the answers, Mr. Thomas. Anyone?” The girl’s hand shot up. “Anyone except Miss Granger?” Some students were glancing at each other, some were whispering, others were looking anywhere except towards him. “Miss Parkinson, Miss Greengrass? No? What about you Mr. Finnigan, Miss Patil?”

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and walked slowly down the aisles pausing by tables and glaring at each student. Sometimes he’d get a blank stare, sometimes a trembling lip, sometimes a head shake, sometimes they turned away. Snape was now standing two rows over from the irritating trio and heard Weasley whisper to Potter, ‘Why did you come today? You didn’t have to, you know.’ Snape was most interested to hear Potter’s answer. ‘Because I want to be with you guys as much as I can before I have to face the Dursleys'. The boy glanced at each of his friends. 'I don’t want to be alone.’

Snape moved into the next aisle so they wouldn’t figure out he was listening as Weasley asked, ‘Why Snape’s class? You saw his Dark Mark. He’s a Death Eater.’ Granger whispered, ‘Was Ron…Dumbledore would never trust a supporter of You-Know-Who.’ Weasley again, ‘I’m just saying it’s nutters for you to be here. You know Snape hates you.’ Potter’s hissed answer angered Severus. ‘If I can face Voldemort, I can face Snape.’

 _So I’m no different than the Dark Lord,_ thought Severus with slow-burning anger. _Well, if you think that, I’ll try to make it be true for you._ Gliding silently until he stood behind Potter he asked with icy calm, “Mr. Weasley, please share your thoughts with the whole class.” Snape sneered as the red-head jumped and shook his head. “Unfortunately since this is the last day of classes, I can’t give you the happy experience of a detention with me.” Staring at each of the three in turn, he pointedly rubbed his left forearm. It pleased him to see that they understood the meaning of his gesture. “I can, however, deduct ten points from Gryffindor.” He smirked as all the Gryffindors groaned. 

“I realize that your instruction in Defense Against the Dark Arts has been abysmal.” Snape strode to the front of the class, his black robes billowing behind him. “Until this year you didn’t have a professor who knew anything about the Dark Arts.” _Of course,_ he reflected suppressing a smirk, _having a Death Eater instruct the class had its advantages._ He turned to face them so quickly that his robes swirled around him. “If I’d been your Dark Arts teacher you wouldn’t now be so ignorant.” _And,_ he thought, _that would also be because you would have had a Death Eater for a teacher._

Several students exchanged looks. It was common knowledge that Severus had applied multiple times for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and been denied the position. At least this pronouncement had stopped their muttering for the moment. Enjoying the discomfort of the class, he was surprised to see a hand hesitantly raised. In a voice dripping with sarcasm Snape said, “Longbottom, I doubt seriously that you have anything intelligent to say. What could you possibly add to this discussion?”

“Th…th…th…” Neville stuttered, all bravery suddenly gone.

“Well, spit it out or shut up and stop wasting my time you stupid boy,” Snape snapped.

“The Cruciatus is a destructive curse, Professor Snape,” Neville finished in a rush.

It wasn’t surprising that he’d been given the correct answer from this normally dreadful student. Severus knew what had been done to Longbottom’s parents but was sure his classmates didn’t. “Yes," Snape's stared at the frightened young man, "it is. If you’re strong…” He seared Neville with his fiercest stare. “…you can endure the Cruciatus Curse. If you’re weak…” He curled his upper lip. “…it will drive you insane.” Longbottom blanched and appeared he might vomit.

Out of the corner of his eye Snape saw Potter’s head snap up and study Longbottom for a brief moment. Then Potter glared at Snape and the boy’s green eyes flashed with anger. It seemed there was one member of the class who knew about the idiot’s history.

“Destructive curses, like the Cruciatus, are Dark Magic,” Snape said in a soft, deadly voice. “The Ministry feels that your fragile young psyches should not be taught about such subjects.” Snape drew his wand and pointed it at Potter. “I don’t share that opinion. Potter, stand up!” For a moment, Snape thought the boy was going to defy him – he didn’t, after all, have to be in class. The hatred hadn’t left Potter’s face as he got to his feet and drew his wand. “It is my understanding that the headmaster gave Professor Moody permission to demonstrate the Imperius Curse earlier this term and Potter was particularly adept at resisting”. Snape sneered. “Shall we have a little demonstration of the Cruciatus Curse and see how he does with it?” The boy visibly paled as he gripped his wand tighter.

“You can’t, Professor,” Hermione blurted out. “It’s illegal.” She peered up at Harry with deep concern and then focused on Snape, silently pleading with him.

Every person in the room felt the tension passing between their professor and the trio. The mutterings grew louder as they were all wondering what would happen next. “Regrettably, Miss Granger is correct,” Snape said with an exaggerated sigh. He'd never admit it aloud – she was a brilliant witch despite being Muggle-born. He was almost derailed with the realization of another similarity he had with Potter. _Granger is exactly like Lily; my best female friend at Hogwarts._ Flicking his wand, he asked silkily, “Potter, what can you tell us about the Cruciatus Curse?”

Harry didn’t drop his wand as he said with barely suppressed rage, “You must want to inflict pain and suffering.” He flicked his wand exactly like Snape had and added through clenched teeth, “It works best if you hate your target.”

“That’s correct.” All the voices had stopped – Severus had never known this class to be so quiet. His eyes gleamed maliciously as he spoke with murderous calm, “The Ministry and the headmaster will not allow students any first-hand experience with the Cruciatus Curse. They feel that inflicting pain on students is wrong.” Scanning the upturned faces around him, Snape saw anticipation from most of the Slytherins, and fear from all the Gryffindors. “That may change when Hogwarts has new leadership…” Snape pointed his wand at the floor. “…alas today is not that day.” He noted that Potter did not lower his wand – so like he, Snape, would have defiantly done at that age.

“None of you have ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse.” Snape kept his focus on Potter and saw an involuntary shudder course through the boy. Snape was delighted that he’d made Potter remember his pain. While the boy had slept comfortably in hospital, Snape had been lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor of the Riddle house. “And it is very unlikely that any of you ever will be subjected to it.” Snape walked slowly towards the back table, wondering how long it would be before the boy shouted or did something foolish. Snape hoped he would lose control and cast a curse that he, Snape, could legitimately counter.

Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously as he spoke with cold deliberation. “It is a pain beyond anything you can imagine. Your bones feel like they're on fire; you think you’re melting from the inside out.” Severus was now standing directly in front of Potter. His quiet voice was the only sound in the room. “Your head feels as though it is going to explode like a smashed melon. Your eyes roll, and you scream and scream and scream.” Potter’s breathing had become shallow and his wand hand had dropped to his side. “White-hot daggers pierce every inch of your skin – and while there is no wound, it feels as if you’re being slashed to ribbons. Your legs will not support you and you fall to the ground, jerking and twitching. Your arms flail uselessly, and you continue to scream.”

With eyes constantly on Potter, Snape walked slowly around the back table so he faced the whole class. The boy rotated with him and while pain was evident in his expression, he never once broke eye contact. Snape noted with satisfaction that every student was watching his little demonstration, and it was having its desired effect. “You want it to end…you want to die so the pain will stop, except it doesn’t stop and you scream until your throat is raw.” Snape saw tears running down Granger’s cheeks; some of the girls, both Gryffindor and Slytherin, were holding their hands over their mouths. Thomas, Weasley, and Finnigan seemed ready to throw something; Longbottom's breathing was shallow; his hands clenched into fists; Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked pleased.

“The pain is intense…all consuming, you can’t feel your body separate from its pain, your vision is blurred so you no longer see your tormentor, and then…” he spoke loudly and clapped, “…it stops!” Snape was pleased that everyone including Potter jumped. “Is it over?” No one spoke; the class hardly breathed. Raising an eyebrow he asked, “What do you think, Potter?” The boy was very white.

“No,” Harry said softly.

“Louder, so everyone can hear.” Snape was ecstatic that he’d been able to make Potter relive his experience so completely. If, after all Snape had endured, the obnoxious boy was going to compare him to the Dark Lord, then Snape was going to inflict as much pain as he could short of actually casting the curse. That he would never do even if allowed.

“No, it’s not over,” Harry said resolutely. “Your muscles shake uncontrollably; you can’t stand; you can’t think.” For the first time since the ordeal began, Harry dropped his gaze to the floor and he began to shake. “You ache all over and you’re exhausted.”

As the boy collapsed into his seat, Severus stalked ahead speaking firmly as he went. “Potter is, surprisingly, correct on all accounts.” When Snape reached his desk he picked up a vial, turned on his heel and held it up. “There is a potion that counters the effects of the Cruciatus Curse if you take it soon after. If you don’t…” Unsure whether it would sink in, Snape tried with an expression alone to make Potter understand the difference between their experiences, “…the exhaustion and aching are long-lasting and it takes many days to recover.”

A raised hand on the left side of the room caught his eye. “You have a question, Miss Brown?”

“Well, no, sir. It's just that your description of the Cruciatus Curse made me feel like you were doing it to me.” She crossed her arms in front of herself and rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms. “It made me hurt.”

Several students nodded in agreement. Potter was whispering to Granger. Another raised hand kept Severus from making a biting comment. “Yes, Miss Parkinson?”

The girl hesitated and glanced across the room at her classmate. It seemed she didn’t want to agree with a Gryffindor nevertheless in the end said, “I felt it too. It was so vivid and…and chilling.” She paused, and then faced front. There was a tremor in her voice not usually present. “Professor Snape, was it…was your description…was it from experience?” The fear of punishment was obvious in her expression as she almost whispered such a personal question. “Has someone cast the Cruciatus Curse on you?”

While he didn't want to discuss himself, he felt they deserved an honest answer. He, after all, had started this discussion. “Yes,” he said calmly, “and worse.” There was a collective gasp from the students. He observed the class and noted they were all watching him intently. Malfoy looked impressed. Potter’s expression was unreadable. Granger was angry. “You think the Cruciatus is the worst it can get?” Fixing his glare on Potter he added harshly, “Then, you’re wrong.”

These young people needed intensive instruction now more than ever. Severus scanned the fourteen and fifteen year-old faces seated in front of him. He knew some of them would be lost in the coming conflict. He didn’t want it to be because they weren’t taught the skills that would keep them alive. Some might think he was cruel; however he knew better than most what they would face.

Placing the vial on the desk, he uncharacteristically leaned against it as his knees suddenly threatened to buckle. “You can be sure this and the other potions in this category of restoratives will be included in the O.W.L. exams you sit in your fifth year. It will benefit you all to study them during the summer break.” And then he did something that surprised them all – he dismissed them early. As he watched them gather their things and hastily depart – he was certain they thought it was a trick – Severus observed the Golden Trio most closely. Granger and Weasley flanked Potter like guards.

The early dismissal hadn’t been for the students, it was for him. Snape needed some time to rest before the Leaving Feast. He had recovered completely from the prior week’s ordeal, yet reliving the effects of the Cruciatus Curse had drained him as much as it had Potter. Was he getting old or had he merely forgotten how much it hurt? Did Potter feel it like he did, or were the youthful bones and nerves more forgiving of the torture? Potter was even younger than Snape had been the first time he’d felt the curse. And Snape’s first hadn’t been cast by the Dark Lord who took great pleasure in it. He was particularly vicious, especially when angry.


	8. Leaving

A few hours later as Snape was about to enter the Great Hall he saw Madam Pomfrey coming from the other direction. He’d managed to avoid her since her visit to his dungeon chambers. He didn’t like to admit it even to himself, but she had been quite helpful with his healing. She had provided some potions that he’d not had time to brew beforehand that had proven most effective. Her gentle care and expertise had straightened, strengthened and mended his arm completely. Most of all he appreciated that she’d not asked questions about where he’d been or how he’d been injured. She had been completely professional; as Dumbledore said she would be.

They arrived at the door to the staff entrance at the same time. Poppy smiled, “Hello Severus.”

Snape nodded his head curtly and without slowing said, “Madam Pomfrey.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked as she scanned him from head to toe.

Though he would have preferred to ignore her he saw no convenient way to do so. The woman could be tenacious when she wanted something and he didn't wish to draw any attention to their encounter. Pausing briefly he responded, “I’m quite well, thank you.” As he stepped away he felt her hand on his left arm and instinctively pulled away.

“Wait, please,” Poppy said quietly.

Hoping she hadn’t seen the apprehension that had briefly crossed his face, he affected his most unreadable expression and gazed down at her. Severus didn’t think her touch near his Dark Mark meant anything. Until his display to Fudge last week he’d kept that part of his life hidden from the Hogwarts staff.

Poppy dropped her hand and avoided looking at the arm he was now holding stiffly against his body. “I’m so sorry, Severus. I didn’t mean…I’m not here to pry into your private life.” She searched his face. “I only wanted to stop you from rushing away before I could say what I need to say.”

“Really, Madam Pomfrey, I don’t need…”

“You’re still the same stubborn eleven-year-old who wouldn’t come to me when you’d been hurt by the other boys!” she exclaimed in exasperation as she shook her head. “Don’t let your pride keep you from asking for help. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Now he did feel like the child being scolded by the school matron so many years ago. Severus wondered if Albus and Poppy had talked about his independence since they'd used exactly the same words. He let the hint of a smile touch his lips in spite of himself.

With the slightest nod towards his left arm Pomfrey said, “Your past will stay in your past. I will never reveal anything I saw that night. It is obvious you have Albus’ trust and that is good enough for me.”

“Thank-you,” Snape said softly.

“Working with students all these years I’ve learned it is often best that I don’t know what caused their injuries. That way they will ask for help when in need with no fear of consequences.”

Severus was conflicted. On the one hand he would have liked to end this conversation – it was getting too close to him admitting he wasn't self-reliant. On the other hand, the warm feeling rising in his chest from his colleague's unconditional offer was pleasant albeit unfamiliar. He let the elder witch continue.

Hesitantly Poppy reached out and touched Snape’s right arm. “If last week was any example, your future will hold horrors that few can imagine. Know that I’m always here for you, at any time, for any reason. I don’t have to know anything other than that you need me.”

“Madam Pomfrey…” It was so unusual for him to be tongue-tied, unable to respond with a retort or biting comment; he didn’t know what was happening to him. He meant to tell her off; to tell her to stop meddling; to leave him alone – but the words weren't there. Somehow it seemed wrong to say those things. “I…”

She smiled broadly, “Come Severus. We don’t want to miss the start of the feast.” She looped her left arm through his right and began to pull him towards the Great Hall. “And please, would you at least try to call me Poppy?”

Extracting his arm from the grasp of the matron Snape stopped himself from chuckling just in time. He scowled and walked into the room by her side. The mood in the Hall was anything but cheerful. Instead of decorations to celebrate the winner of the House-Cup, black drapes hung behind the staff table to honor Cedric Diggory. Poppy left him to take her place and Snape sat down next to Professor McGonagall.

“Are you as glad as I am that this week is finally over?” Minerva asked as she scanned the Gryffindor table.

“Yes.” Snape followed her gaze and saw that the irritating trio was not in the room.

“I’ve not seen Potter in the Hall for meals most of this week,” she said with concern.

_Yeah so what_ , Severus thought, keeping his expression blank.

“He’s also not been in classes.” Minerva raised an eyebrow.

Snape wondered if, by her obvious attempt at subtle inquiry, she knew Potter had been in potions. “It was my understanding that the headmaster felt study was…” He curled his lip, “…unnecessary for our new hero,” and he spat the last word.

“Severus!” she glowered at him. “Harry has been through an ordeal no one, much less a fourteen year-old, should ever have to face.”

“And do you think coddling him will prepare him to survive the next time the Dark Lord tries to kill him?” he snapped. His dark eyes flashed with anger. “Potter has escaped death multiple times because of luck or the help of others, not because of his abilities. He needs training not sympathy.”

The elder witch glanced around to see if their exchange had drawn any attention. Lowering her voice Minerva continued, “His education is important, but a little compassion won’t hurt until the shock of what he’s been through diminishes.”

"Compassion is overrated," Snape raised an eyebrow, non-verbally daring her to argue the point with a Slytherin.

They sat quietly for a few minutes watching students take their places. “Look at them, Severus,” Minerva said quietly. “These children need advanced training unlike any generation has since you were a student here.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the four house tables. “One fine young man has already lost his life. How many of them will die before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated?”

“Would it surprise you to know that I had similar thoughts during my last class?” Snape said with deliberate calm.

“No, it wouldn’t surprise me at all.” Tears glistened in McGonagall’s eyes. “I lost students to You-Know-Who in the first war…” She glanced at the Slytherin table, “…on both sides.” She swiped at her tears. “I don’t want to lose any of them because their education is lacking.”

“Nor do I,” Snape studied the witch sitting next to him who was now his colleague and once had been his professor. No one had ever been able to hide mischief from her as a student. She, like Dumbledore, seemed to know things she shouldn’t have any way to know.

“I take it you are aware of what happened…what I did in my last class,” Snape asked. At Minerva’s nod, he continued. “You and the others may think my teaching methods are harsh. The fight against the Dark Lord is going to be brutal and the students need to understand how bad it can get, especially Potter.”

“Weren’t you straying a bit from your potions curriculum?” Minerva's eyes twinkled and a hint of a smile touched her lips, her momentary upset gone.

“Perhaps, but they have to know.” With a quick nod towards the Gryffindor table - still absent Potter - Snape hissed, “He has to know what he’ll be facing.” Snape decided to stretch the truth a bit to make his point. “It started out as a discussion of O.W.L. restorative potions they’ll cover in their fifth year; then Potter came in. I knew it was an opportunity to demonstrate to the whole class what can happen to any of them – what has already happened to one of them.”

“So You-Know-Who used the Cruciatus Curse on Harry?” McGonagall, noticeably very concerned, looked again for Potter.

“I’m certain of it.” At her questioning expression he added, “No, Minerva, Dumbledore has not told me anything about what happened to the boy and you can be certain Potter will tell me nothing. However, it’s the way the Dark Lord operates.” Snape realized he was rubbing his right arm where it had been broken when he noticed Minerva watching him. He dropped his hands to his lap. “The Dark Lord gets great pleasure from inflicting pain and humiliation.”

“I hope we get a qualified Defense Against the Dark Arts professor next term.” McGonagall glanced down the table to where Mad-Eye Moody was seated and saw him jump as Professor Flitwick spoke. “I don’t suppose Moody would come back next year. His paranoia is greater now than it was before.”

Snape was not disappointed that the ex-Auror would not return. Moody felt that once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater. Snape’s double life was going to make the coming year hard enough without having to hide his actions from someone trained to hunt Dark Wizards.

“Of course, no Defense teacher lasts longer than a year,” she sighed.

The grim thought flashed into Snape’s mind that Dumbledore should finally give him the position – with the Dark Lord's return Snape was already living on borrowed time. “Moody didn’t teach,” Snape pointed out. “Crouch did do a good job with the class.” Snape's lips curled almost into a grin, “He did have unique qualifications.”

“That may be true,” Minerva snorted, “but Albus would never hire a Death Eater to teach at Hogwarts simply because he’s an expert in dark magic.” There was an uncomfortable silence. Minerva’s wizened face softened as she whispered, “Just ex-Death Eaters.”

This uncharacteristic acknowledgement of his background surprised Snape then he realized by her warm smile that McGonagall was simply trying to show him that he was accepted no matter what. Yet having it voiced in the open made him uncomfortable and he wondered if she knew he’d returned to serve the Dark Lord. _Now that he is back,_ Severus thought miserably, _there is no such thing as an ex-Death Eater. The Dark Mark burned into our arms requires unquestioning obedience if we hope to live._

Further conversation was interrupted as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle boisterously entered the Hall. Their demeanor and attitude contrasted so radically with the subdued tone in the room that they drew the attention of everyone at the staff table and many of the students.

Nodding towards the disturbance, Minerva said tartly, “You need to keep your Death-Eaters-in-waiting from joining You-Know-Who.”

“I’ll handle the students in my house, my way Professor McGonagall,” Severus snapped curtly, dark eyes narrowed with anger. “Slytherin does not automatically mean evil!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted his tone; yet he didn’t apologize. He wasn’t sure which of his retorts came from his real feelings and which were an act to shield him from getting close to people. It made him very uncomfortable when anyone acted as if they cared for him. Dumbledore had called the staff his family, yet Severus didn't need them; he didn't want them, did he?

Severus tried to deny and ignore it, but he did feel a kinship – not really friendship – with at least some of his colleagues. He had found acceptance here – unlike his association with the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters who wanted him only for what he could give them. He wondered, _was having this sense of family- love Dumbledore would say – really all it had taken for me to become a different man?_

Shaking off the unsettling feeling, Snape looked at Malfoy and his cohorts. McGonagall’s scolding hadn’t fallen on deaf ears though he’d never tell her that. He really did plan to do what he could to keep those three from following in his footsteps – of making the mistake he’d made when he took the Dark Mark. However, with all their fathers being Death Eaters, it might prove impossible. Snape couldn’t do anything that would cast suspicion on him as one of Voldemort’s most devoted supporters. The dark trio might have to be sacrificed for the greater good – for Harry Potter – and for that Severus was deeply saddened because every child was important, not only the Golden Boy.

Watching Draco 'hold court' so like Lucius had done at the same age, Severus knew the boy wished to be like the father he idolized with all the power and prestige the Malfoy name commanded. Snape wondered if Draco would callously accumulate bodies as his father had, or could Severus surreptitiously awaken a morality in Draco that would keep a Jeremy Sloan out of his future? Raising one eyebrow and suppressing a snort – the thought stuck Severus that if he couldn't keep one teenager from becoming a Death Eater without jeopardizing his role as a spy he no longer deserved to be called Slytherin.

When Dumbledore came into the Hall and took his seat, Snape again checked to see if Potter had arrived. After his last class Snape wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Potter skipped the feast, yet at the last moment the trio entered. Snape watched intently as the boy looked first at Moody, then at Karkaroff’s empty chair before taking his own seat. Snape saw Potter’s eyes move along the staff table, now looking at Madame Maxime, Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. Then their eyes locked.

With clenched teeth, Severus frowned slightly and let his gaze linger on Potter. Snape was angry that the Dark Lord had told him he’d have to murder someone – that he might be asked to kill the boy – and Snape let that anger show. He could cheerfully torment and ridicule Potter, he could gladly be vindictive and cruel to him, but Snape did not want him dead. He’d promised to protect Lily’s son; to endure torture for him; even to give his life for him and the insufferable mediocre boy had no idea.

Snape’s frown changed to loathing as he wondered if Potter cared how many people would suffer and how many would die so he could live. He'd been a baby the first time Severus had faced the Dark Lord without being able to disclose the Potters location. In an oft repeated pattern, Snape had been subjected to the tyrant's substantial anger due to that failure. With Snape's connection to Lily and his placement as a spy in Dumbledore's camp, the Dark Lord presumed Snape could get information that would lead to the family. Even if he'd known; even without the protection of the Fidelius Charm, Severus would never have betrayed Lily. He would have willingly given his life for her, yet every time he endured the Cruciatus Curse it fueled his hatred of both Potter males.

Turning away from the Gryffindor table, Snape felt Potter’s eyes still on him as Snape scanned the Slytherins, the bastion of blood purity at Hogwarts. These children of ambitious, cunning witches and wizards deserved as much protection as any other student, yet attitudes towards his house painted them all with the same dark brush. While he didn't nurture his students with kindness and goodness as did the other heads, he wanted them to excel in life. He simply didn't believe coddling them was the way to accomplish that objective. To use any means necessary to gain power and influence did not have to mean practicing the Dark Arts though Snape wasn’t so naive as to think that none of them would.

The Hall had become very quiet, and Snape faced the center of the staff table where Dumbledore had gotten to his feet.

"The end…," Dumbledore began. As he the scanned room filled with students and staff, the headmaster’s eyes briefly met Snape’s before moving on to the next person. Snape appreciated that Dumbledore understood this was not an end for him, but the resumption of his difficult and dangerous double life. "…of another year." _Very likely my last,_ Severus thought.

Dumbledore paused and Snape followed his gaze to the subdued Hufflepuff table. As the headmaster said, 'There is much I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here…' Severus recalled the competent young man who had applied himself to his studies and seldom caused trouble – unlike some. He turned toward the Gryffindors and watched the Weasley twins sitting uncharacteristically quiet and sober-faced. He wondered if the chief mischief-makers of sixth-year would ever amount to anything.

Catching Dumbledore's gesture toward the Hufflepuff table out of the corner of his eye, Severus scanned the sad faces there. The Dark Lord had brought the reality of death to these children way too soon.

Dumbledore continued "…enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses to Cedric Diggory."

When Severus stood and joined the rest of the Hall raising his goblet to Cedric as Dumbledore had asked, Snape visualized the eleven-year-old Cedric who was confident yet never cocky. Catching a glimpse of Miss Chang's tear-stained face as he sat, Severus understood the pain she was feeling. Or did he? She had not caused the death of the one she loved as Snape had. He looked over at Potter and saw the boy staring at the table. It didn't take a Legilimens to realize that he felt responsible for Diggory's death even though he hadn't been.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. Snape remembered the persistence of the third-year Cedric who’d worked over and over on the Shrinking Solution until he got it precisely the correct shade of bright acid green.

The description that Dumbledore gave of the Hufflepuff boy as 'a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play' contrasted sharply with how Severus would describe himself, or most any Slytherin. He’d been taught in his house that you take what you want, when you want it, by any means available and always take the easiest and shortest path to your goal. He studied the young faces at that table – a few sad, others arrogant, most were impassive. It was still the Slytherin way, however given recent history, perhaps not the best way.

"His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not, I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

As Dumbledore paused for the briefest moment, Severus turned back to Gryffindor and watched Potter lift his head and stare at the headmaster. With a jolt, Snape realized he had something else in common with the boy. They were the only two in the room who’d seen the new incarnation of the Dark Lord and both knew what Dumbledore was about to say.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Next to him, Snape heard McGonagall gasp; people all over the Hall were whispering; faces stared at Dumbledore in disbelief and horror. The name terrified people, but evil, no matter what you called it, was out there and it was real. Suppressing the urge to rub his Dark Mark, in his mind Severus saw the reptilian face that personified evil flash over the good and wholesome face of Diggory.

After the Hall had quieted, Dumbledore continued "The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are."

If the prophecy was to be believed, Harry Potter, despite being a boy, was destined to be the one to finally destroy the darkest wizard to ever walk the earth. He was the one that would save them all, and with the brat’s lack of talent that was a frightening thought. Snape glanced up and down the head table and knew most of the staff was good and competent. He vowed that in the coming year he would do what he could to train the students, including Potter, even though it would be difficult.

Perhaps next year they would get a Defense teacher who would be a willing colleague in that task; who would join with the staff to prepare the students for what was coming. Snape knew he might not be able to participate as much as he’d like as his colleagues didn’t trust him on the subject of the Dark Arts. He faced the headmaster again. If Dumbledore would give him the Defense post, Severus knew he’d teach them well. They wouldn’t like him but more of them would survive the war.

“It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Instead of having a bright future ahead of him, Severus reflected, Cedric would always be remembered as the first Hogwarts student of this generation who died because of the Dark Lord. Sadly, Snape knew Diggory wouldn’t be the last. Severus thought of Jeremy Sloan again – another young man who could have had a bright future had Snape not murdered him at the same age as Diggory. He turned away from Dumbledore and briefly scanned all the house tables focusing on the students in sixth year. These were Cedric’s classmates – the sixteen and seventeen year-olds who would come of age in a world ruled by the Dark Lord unless… Snape looked at Potter and saw him glowering at Malfoy.

While almost everyone was stunned or frightened and staring at Dumbledore, Draco was smirking and muttering to Crabbe and Goyle. There was no place in Snape’s heart for sentiment, nevertheless he was instantly angered at Draco’s blatant rudeness. Even Slytherins could give respect where respect was due, and Cedric Diggory deserved respect. He’d never courted fame so he had seemed an unlikely candidate to be the Triwizard Champion. In hindsight it was that characteristic of humbleness, of aspiring to do his best for all of Hogwarts that made the Goblet of Fire choose Diggory.

When Dumbledore said, ‘There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric’s death,’ Severus faced Potter before the others in the room. Most people would never understand how Severus could hate the boy without wanting physical harm to come to him.

“I’m talking, of course, about Harry Potter.”

Snape watched as a few heads turned in Potter’s direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore. The boy represented hope and salvation to the Wizarding World. Snape wished the focus was on someone more worthy, yet given the way things were, Snape had to accept Potter as that symbol. No matter his personal feelings, Severus was obligated to protect the boy and he would go through hell – had in fact done exactly that a week ago – to keep him alive.

“Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” said Dumbledore.

Snape’s gut clenched as he remembered the words he had so gladly reported to his master. ‘THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES….’ Severus placed his left fist under his chin and rested his head on it as he studied Potter. There was no escaping the fact that it was Snape's fault that Lily's son had been targeted by the Dark Lord. It was Snape's actions that had started the chain of events that had led to Diggory's death and Potter's torture. No one had made him to choose the path he'd taken. The boy, on the other hand, had never had a choice – had never had a chance at a normal life. Both had been marked by the Dark Lord and regardless of how distasteful it was Severus knew they were irrevocably linked.

“He risked his own life to return Cedric’s body to Hogwarts."

After his marking ceremony, Snape and the other new Death Eaters had dumped the bodies of the Sloan family into a roadside ditch outside a Muggle community – like the garbage they were to the Dark Lord. Thankfully, Potter had spared Diggory the same indignity.

“He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort,…”

_Bravery, what bravery?_ Snape thought angrily, dropping his hand to his lap and glaring at Dumbledore. He was sure the spawn of James Potter had done nothing except get lucky to survive his encounter with Voldemort. Snape used Occlumency and other skills to stay alive while in the presence of the Dark Lord – skills the boy would never have. Studying Dumbledore's grim face as the headmaster turned towards Potter, Snape remembered the torn and bloody robes the child wore upon his return to the maze. Realizing he didn't know the whole story, Snape reluctantly considered that perhaps his visceral gut reaction was unfair. Just as quickly as that idea surfaced – he rejected it.

“…and for this I honor him.”

Caught off guard in his thoughts, Severus was a little delayed in standing. While he would have preferred to not do it, he raised his goblet and mumbled as quietly as he could, 'Harry Potter.' He noticed several at the Slytherin table, not only Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had not participated in the toast although it seemed the headmaster either hadn’t seen this or chose to ignore it. When Snape took his seat, he reflected that if it had been possible he wouldn’t have ‘honored’ Potter either. Severus simply didn’t think the boy had done anything that made him special.

A professor, a head-of-house no less, could not stay seated when the headmaster had so directly requested a show of respect and admiration towards the famous Harry Potter. Though unlike the childish defiance of the students, Snape’s hatred was personal – not hatred for what Potter represented to Wizardkind.

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In light of what has happened – Lord Voldemort's return – such ties are more important than ever before."

Following Dumbledore's lead, Snape looked first at Madame Maxine, and then her Beauxbatons students sitting with the Ravenclaws, and then the Durmstrangs seated at Slytherin. He hoped the war wouldn't extend beyond Great Britain to include their countries. Regardless of extent, Snape was committed to work until he breathed his last to bring about the Dark Lord's downfall so these young people and others of their generation could live in a better world.

“Every guest in this Hall,…”

Snape's eyes, like Dumbledore's and most of the room lingered upon the Durmstrang students. That European school, more than the other ten Wizarding schools combined embraced the Dark Arts. If any were to be suspected beyond Slytherin, it would be them. Dumbledore's explicit inclusion of Durmstrang as part of the fight against the Dark Lord was very significant and Severus hoped they would embrace it.

“…will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come.”

The wary, almost frightened expression on Viktor Krum’s face caused Snape to wonder if Karkaroff’s students knew why their headmaster had disappeared. The man was stupid to think he’d be able to escape the Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters. The coward would be dead within weeks. The Durmstrang students were all of age so being left alone to go home wasn’t catastrophic. Snape faced Dumbledore again. Regardless of age, Severus knew Dumbledore would never abandon his pupils, and if he had a choice in the matter Snape knew he wouldn’t either.

“I say to you all, once again – in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.”

The image of Sirius Black swam into Snape’s mind as he thought of the handshake Dumbledore had forced upon them a week ago. Having to accept that arrogant, irritating, obnoxious bastard Black as an ally was even worse than having to protect James Potter’s brat. Snape’s hatred of James was considerable, but his hatred of Black was tenfold what he felt for the two male Potters combined. To have Black back in his life was almost worse than facing the Dark Lord.

While Snape's continued loathing of Black stemmed from the years of abuse Severus had suffered while they were both students, it was his belief that the man was responsible for the betrayal of Lily's location that had caused his almost primal attack on Black last year. It was infuriating that Black and Lupin had been right about Pettigrew. Snape was very disappointed that Black wasn’t the evil wizard Severus had believed Black to be when he was sent to Azkaban.

“Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great.”

And by helping to orchestrate the smear campaign that would delay belief in the Dark Lord’s return, Snape realized that he’d already played a part in spreading that discord. The coming year would have pleasant moments interspersed with very difficult ones. His frequent physical torture at the hands of the Dark Lord would be somewhat mitigated by knowing he had a hand in the psychological torture of Potter. It was better that he suffers emotional distress and live than be targeted for death. Severus put his left hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. It would be enjoyable to watch the boy squirm.

“We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust.”

Friendship and trust, Dumbledore had said. There was no such thing as friendship or trust among Death Eaters, only attempts to gain greater favor and influence with the Dark Lord. It was much the same for Severus in the Order. To many of them, like Moody, Dumbledore’s assurances of Snape’s conversion fell on deaf ears. He would never be trusted.

As for friends at Hogwarts, Severus had none. He scanned the staff table. The shaggy head of Hagrid towered above them all; his colleagues were friendly. He observed Pomfrey; and they were sometimes helpful. Severus looked at Flitwick; but a friend was someone who wanted to be with you. He watched Sprout; and liked to talk to you. He studied McGonagall's profile; a friend was someone who would suggest outings. He focused on Dumbledore; and does things with you outside the normal work environment. The greatest regret of Snape's life was passing along the prophecy and realizing that the Dark Lord had interpreted it to mean the child of the only person who'd ever been kind to him. After what he'd done Severus didn't feel he deserved friends.

For months both before and after they'd left Hogwarts, Severus had not had a chance to talk to Lily. He was sad that she'd died without knowing he'd changed sides or that he'd tried to protect her. He was certain, however, that Dumbledore hadn't told her it had been Snape who'd put the target on her baby's head and he took some small solace in that.

“Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.”

_Different habits; yeah, that describes the werewolf. Lupin, though not as much of a bully as Black & Potter, never did anything to stop their torment of me,_ Snape thought. _Lupin never once stood up for me and he was a prefect!_

Snape curled his lip and managed to suppress a snort. Lupin was his own kind of irritation; a Dark Creature who should have been put down years ago. On the contrary, the Ministry registered werewolves rather than exterminating them. Severus had thought for years that it would be better to simply get rid of Lupin so the rest of them wouldn’t have to worry that the wolf would forget to take his taming potion each month. A pack of his kind could do as much damage as a pack of Death Eaters. Severus was suddenly struck by the thought that he should suggest to the Dark Lord that he try to make allies of the werewolves as he planned to do with the giants. Then Snape would recommend that Dumbledore send Lupin in as a spy. Severus almost smiled. Lupin would finally see, and by extension Black would see, that what Snape did took a different kind of courage.

“It is my belief – and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken – that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort.”

It galled Severus that Dumbledore didn't even glance his way when he mentioned those who'd suffered. The old man, and every person present, was obviously thinking of the Potter boy, though Snape noticed Dumbledore hadn't looked at the brat either. And he had said 'some of you', not 'one of you'. Snape quickly quashed his very un-Slytherin feelings of jealously as he realized it would be dangerous for him to be acknowledged. His role as Death Eater and spy couldn't become common knowledge if he was to be useful to Dumbledore.

Severus sighed and studied the Golden trio – Weasley and Granger again seated on either side of Potter. Snape was being forced to work with two of the bullies who had tormented him through all his years at Hogwarts. With the younger Potter in the mix it was as if the three worst of that quartet had come back to haunt him. Add having to be around Pettigrew and Snape felt like he was sixteen again.

What had he done to deserve such punishment? Severus closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in circles against his temples. The feeling of self-pity quickly passed and he dropped his hands and opened his eyes. He’d acknowledged long ago that he’d done things – many things – for which he needed to be punished. Even the torture inflicted by the Dark Lord wasn't too much of a price to pay. He'd never gone to prison for the murder of Jeremy Sloan. Scanning the room, Snape suppressed a snarl as he thought about how much he hated teaching. In working with these children – who needed training – who needed saving – who needed protecting – Severus recognized that he was serving his sentence in a much more useful manner than being in Azkaban. He paused at the Slytherin table.

"Many of your families have been torn asunder."

And many, many others would be before this war was over and not merely by being innocent victims of the Dark Lord. Snape contemplated the fine line he was going to have to walk in order to help the children of his house, several of whom had families that embraced the Dark side. And quite a few of those that didn't actively support the Dark Lord valued pureblood ideals and despised Muggles and Muggle-borns. Snape wanted – no needed – to turn this younger generation away from their destructive racist ideology and loyalty to the old ways. Severus's path was clear even if it would tear apart families.

"A week ago, a student was taken from our midst."

_An outstanding student and a very fine young man,_ Severus reflected as he watched the Hufflepuff students. _Diggory was trustworthy and reliable unlike that duplicitous sycophant Pettigrew_. Snape clenched his fists under the table and ground his teeth. He so wanted to be alone with that little rat. Pettigrew – Wormtail – was the reason Dumbledore's protection of Lily hadn't worked and Severus longed to snap his scrawny neck. Or better yet, Severus smirked; torture him slowly until he begged to die. Sometimes Snape didn't feel the need to be respectable.

“Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort.”

Snape knew he’d made the right choice to oppose the Dark Lord but it wasn’t going to be easy. When he was Cedric’s age, Severus wasn't good or kind or brave. He didn't think he’d ever been entirely evil although he did feel it was okay to get what he wanted by any means necessary; to be vindictive and selfish. Unlike Cedric, Snape hadn't accidently strayed across the path of Voldemort – Severus had gone willingly. His anger at Lily's rejection had driven him to Lord Voldemort and his love of her had turned him away.

_Love…_ Severus studied Dumbledore's sad face intently. _He's always insisted that love is the most powerful force in the world and maybe he's right. Where would I be now without my love for Lily?_

“Remember Cedric Diggory.”

_Diggory will not be forgotten as long as I live,_ Snape thought. While he knew it wasn’t nearly enough to atone for what he'd done, he put flowers on the graves of Jeremy Sloan and his parents each year on the anniversary of their deaths. Had he known of this ritual, Dumbledore would say that because Severus felt remorse it was proof his soul wasn't ripped beyond repair. The old man would then insult him by claiming his actions showed compassion for others. While Severus wouldn't agree with that assertion, he had started to believe he was taking small steps towards redemption. And if he could crawl from the depths of darkness, he might have the capacity to change at least some of his Slytherins.

As those in the hall rose to go to the dorms for their last night, Severus observed the mostly subdued departure. He was committed to doing what had to be done in memory of Cedric and Jeremy and all the people of both the Magical and Muggle worlds who were going to suffer. While he knew he would have to do unsavory and despicable things in the service of the Dark Lord, Snape had to believe any wrongs he committed would be outweighed by the information he'd be able to provide to the Order and Dumbledore.

Severus stood and watched Potter leave the hall flanked by Granger and Weasley. The girl had her hand placed protectively in the small of his back, while the red-head walked ever so slightly ahead like a guard. The curtain of black hair fell away from his face as Snape stretched his back and shoulders, straightening to his full height. He met Dumbledore's eyes briefly, then turned and walked from the Hall. It was – for them all –

THE BEGINNING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The underlined text in this chapter is taken directly from chapter 37 of The Goblet of Fire – the title of which is "The Beginning".


End file.
